MY FUTURE SELF

MY FUTURE SELF My future days are as a grey thickening mist I refuse to countenance them and will resist Life’s mill is slowing now with no more grist I am told to live for today, whilst it may last Nor breathe deep on the oxygen of the past No longer who I was, I will be who I will be I am, after all, just one of many mere mortals Even fantasise about stepping through portals Imagining an amused ferryman as he chortles I cannot believe in any weird alternate future With any link to permanence held by a suture And tomorrow is a barred gate, don’t you see Some seeking a different prospect to entertain May, in their mind, hope they are not insane But perhaps it’s just like a worm in their brain Yet reality can offer only a very cold shoulder That is pushed further back as one gets older Past present and future, we will have all three