He saw that all the struggles of life
were incessant, laborious, painful,
that nothing was done quickly,
that it had to undergo a thousand fondlings,
all the poor fumling uncertain incompletions
of human endeavor.
They went on forever
and were forever incomplete,
far from perfect, refined, or smooth,
full of terrible memories of failure and fears of failure,
in the way of things,
and shining in the end.
photo: tumblr, source unknown to me