My feet know neither pain nor pall,
they refuse death yet embrace birth,
They murmur softly, swift as ghosts
towards my grave on this green earth.
.
My heart it knows none but itself,
my tongue it tastes only success,
my eyes they see the mirror here
and yet no further with finesse.
.
But for my shortness of vision
I turn no blind eye to the past
eras when older eyes would send
pupils into a world so vast.
.
I hear their cries for racing time
the grains of sand beneath their feet
reminders of the ticking clock
a legacy they must complete.
.
Yet time abundance still have I,
so let me tend to nascent fields
whose crops are many, in their prime
and offer ever-pleasant yields.