All his life he had belived the world would change,
if he had more,
if he had done more,
so, he worked and worked until his hands became sore

he got what he sought
and after thirty years
of constant cut and saw
from work and chop, to hand and mouth
he looked out the window but the world didn't change
he still saw what he always saw

It was too late
his mornings
had already gone