If Shakespeare did NaNo

(a mid-November rallying cry in the style of Bill the Bard)

Though in good grace with fortune and men's eyes
for Wrimos all are gathered in this fate,
We suffer the heavens to hear our frenzied cries,
"The time ticks on and we are running late!"

Wishing we'd thought more strongly on this plot,
Pre-planned a conflict, character or theme,
For we know only what this story's not,
And have no clue of how to reach last scene.

Yet in these thoughts our quest full on despising,
Haply we think on thee, December 1st,
When clouds shall part with victory surprising:
Fifty K words! We'll finally quench our thirst.

NaNo success envisioned such joy brings,
"Now we are novelists!" we all shall sing.