As I wake up mercilessly from a dream so distraught
I begin to think of where I was then
Staring out the window, unable to tear my eyes away.
On a bus, strangers crowding as I am oblivious to the world
or in a room, alone, pondering my life and it’s course?
Maybe a school where I am thinking about the future of me and the world.
What will happen, when a strangers taps my shoulder to ask for directions
or when students rush in to tell me to leave?
Maybe the dark will cloud the skies and leave me staring at nothing, nothing but the blackness overcoming the city.
What then, will I oblige and move out of some one’s space
or answer when a stranger calls my name?
Will I fall asleep, back in the trance of a dreaded nightmare, where the worlds is full of hate and fear?
Or will I dream a dream so bold, so great that I wish to live it, or dream it forever?
Years on, will I be here in the spot I am now,
not moving from depression or relief?
Or will I be moved, cities or countries away scurrying across streets?
And all that, I can’t tell you, because why worry? Because here I am now, and here are you now, and why not live life like I’ll die tomorrow? Why waste time thinking about the next day? The next hour?
Because that’s the thing about the future.
It’s unknown,
and unknowable,
but before you know it,
you’re there.