I can only imagine

I have stopped thinking of the future

The part packed with the most adventure

I've quit looking ten, twenty years ahead

Daydreaming and inventing pain to my head

Trying to peep into my later years

Inserting, in order to make real, some tears

Not that I do not desire a great life

Nor that I care little what I'll be God sparing my life

Nor that I do not desire a great life

Nor that I care little from where my greatness will come

Nor that I am complacent with no ambition

Nor that I give my future little attention

But looking back ten years and my dreams then

Of what I would be in some years, say ten

And considering who I am now when the years are past

It is futile to dream of days mentally overcast

Days influenced by factors encompassing as the sea

And of which I am uncertain to see

I would rather think and learn from what has happened

Rather than ache my head over that which won't happen

As for my days of ageing

I can only imagine