A man stands on the edge of yesterday and tomorrow
To his eye these ruins are grossly incomplete;
From his mind, this is quite not what he divined;
A god of his own world professed he to be–
Greatness was not built in an instant, mon ami!
What gift we better given than time?
Nothing comes until Fate summons it forth
And fits snugly into the tapestry of our existence;
Bitterness sours the supple mind
That takes us through those open doors—
So battle that sentiment! Axe it if you will.
Living never comes without obstacle,
Nothing wondrous was won with wondering.