The Future
"The future is an unimagined landscape." - Thomas S. Monson
My dreams, like migratory birds, take flight.
I visit my dark known and unknown realms.
I brighten dark nooks with colourful light.
Feeling each charm-tinge, my heart overwhelms.
Why should I cram my head with a coarse load?
I need not, as a freak, cut others' throat.
I should, with no prejudice, write my code.
I should slowly take the helm of my boat.
Paths are endless. Vistas are numerous.
I should undertake my pilgrimage now.
Should I put my trust in futile rumours?
To beauty before me, I'd always bow.
My heart and mind are tabula rasa.
Nature would scribe existential drama.
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