Rise, my dearest soul!
Feel the imposing existence of this point
Your bowed head must be soon—
Given the delectable grace.

See and build for the open fields,
For they will now place the final piece;
Gradually I kneel,
To endure for such sudden predicament.

Bestowed upon me— the wrath of time,
Time in which I didn't even get to know
Who knew that from what I built that gave me a lift,
Would surely faze me not quite a bit?