The Race
THE RACE
Tomorrow’s fresh hope with the sun
Says life will be better than yesterday
And the race can still be won:
The piper will still await his pay.
Yet tomorrow my days will be shorter
And my time halved without cause:
So my pace must be quicker -
I must be twice the man I was.
In the race between time and agility
Every dawn lets me start again to run
With renewed hope - but less ability -
In a race that can never be won.
My run in the quicksands of time, I doubt.
Of time, I can only run out.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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