Life always so mysterious

Time leaves me so delirious.

And the truth is as I type, there is just too much left to write

I am filled with so much fright, at the thought of life not done right

Could I possibly achieve?  What has life hidden up its sleeve?

A job nay a dream, at the thought my future self does scream.

He begs me do it right, and for him I must alight

all my passion and my desire, that I put forth to grant my hire.

Blood sweat and tears that I do offer,

no less will he accept to fill our coffer.

But in truth I do much fear,

what seems to draw ever near.

A time to choose is all that's left.

What I have written in this text

My hopes, my dreams and my desire.

I ask my future self from what did I retire?