Things keep growing later
Until they all grow late.
There is an ending coming,
Although we know not the date.
Fretting at its certainty
Leaves me in quite a state,
But I cannot leave them aside:
Thoughts of unyielding fate.
There is a sense of panic
Besetting me today.
Its source is all uncertain;
So also is the way
That I can put it all aside
And work, or maybe play
Instead of feeling my heart pound
For reasons I can't say.
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