My Own Hours

Madly I go about from first alarm Bringing forth the load from days past
I sprint toward my gods only to please one and not another
Disappintment and Anxiousness is the song on my lips

Rushing and running to see my love
There are many loves, but which shall I adore most?
These hours do nothing but mock me and those things I cherish

Festivities and celebrations are frivolous, their prize is intangible
Pursuits that would be better left those that hold the hours

To sit in solitude, listening to the day would delight me
Do I dare use the moment at hand?
The gods would be displeased should I breathe or slumber
It is their time, I am not given this gift for my own pleasures