I can only imagine

I have stopped thinking of the future
The part packed with the most adventure
I've quit looking ten, twenty years ahead
Daydreaming and inventing pain to my head
Trying to peep into my later years
Inserting, in order to make real, some tears
Not that I do not desire a great life
Nor that I care little what I'll be God sparing my life
Not that I do not desire a great life
Nor that I care little from where my greatness will come
Not that I am complacent with no ambition
Nor that I give my future little attention
But looking back ten years and my dreams then
Of what I would be in some years, say ten
And considering who I am now when the years are past
It is futile to dream of days mentally overcast
Days influenced by factors encompassing as the sea
And of which I am uncertain to see
I would rather think and learn from what has happened
Rather than ache my head over that which won't happen
As for my days of ageing
I can only imagine