Life cannot be made easy
By willing it be so.
It cannot meet one's wishes
And change how it may go.
It moves, and no one gets
More time than all the rest
To accomplish life and tasks
By nightfall's swift behest.
Time marches, and the miles
Of minutes alter not.
This is truth and does not change:
A truth so soon forgot.
The dreary, longer days,
And the hurried hours that fly
Are the same for all alike;
There's no use asking why.
Perhaps the subtle chances
To choose what must be done
In every waking moment
Are all that's left to one.
postscript
Alas. "The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of 60 minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is." C.S. Lewis