Nights race round and pass faster than they used.
So many daylight dreams and projects had. . . .
Now they're past nothings, or memories fused.
No time left for half and more to feel glad.
I would the past the brilliant building be.
But it is not so; final payment's nigh.
Quick nights tell the darkness to make me see:
not much time nor enough, as I would lie.
Anticipate and race toward all your life
then find you your self that cold ember's glow.
Future's consolation is now less strife,
but the race we would have, it is not so.
Things learned and practiced have a life their own.
Terms' endings close the interest only loan.
