Poetry: Posterity or Worse Aubade

The plan is to go on indefinite,
As others by me hold the moments still,
Posterity obtainable through will,
No matter what the wish to conquer it

But late at night dis-ease runs through my veins,
The glimpse of boundary with which I’m cursed.
Like waves upon the shore land unrehearsed
The dream that my feet land on what remains.