I was toiling with my day:

I told myself  it will end, the day did.

I was angry at my day:

I told it not to end; yet it did.

And I wallowed in fear

Night and morning so far yet so near, 

I was sunned when with smiles 

And with a few wiles.

Toiling both day and night,

till it bore the seeds of my work,

And my oh my I held it high,

And beheld it shine I knew it was mine-

Into the night I fell knowing 

That the night had reveled all it could;

In the morning , glad, I see

My work finished outstretched beneath me.