the daily run

all must depend upon the will of time
there are some kindnesses that we would grant
to let the world be more than we would vaunt
a smooth similitude proclaimed in rhyme
and though the words have music when they chime
there's something that we know must still enchant
a better vision clearer than the gaunt
heroic self that we set on the climb
above us there are buzzards that still wait
on failing step and watch for the last fall
we know their meaning and on we must press
in hope that we will reach the summer gate
and find our welcome in the happy hall
where each receives the prize of their success