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
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