Tomorrow Poem by Blue Pink

Tomorrow never comes too slow.
A bit of toil and it is near.
Coming towards for the real.
Always ready to play its game.
Play without expectations,
As it's either you will lose or win.
Pondering what good it brings,
or what another battle to fight in.

As you see the sun rising.
Be ready for another day.
It will rise again.
And again. And again.

But what should to tell tomorrow,
when we are in obscure battle of
the unknown - joy or sorrow,
something we never know.
Between the irony of no expectations
yet looking forward for a pleasant flow.

If we can command the sun,
when to rise and when to set...
If we have authority over the stars
and the clouds and rains...

What life can it be?

But tomorrow is today. And this day is tomorrow.
And tomorrow is its day.
Unending cycle of, tomorrow.

Are we prepared?