Tomorrow: a poem

 The mystery of tomorrow 

So what can I say about tomorrow

Except that it is always uncertain, never known,

Always a possibility, waiting to unfold?

I can adorn it with fear or I can adorn it with love.

I can imagine the very best happening

Or I can imagine the very worst,

Each conceivable picture I make of what it might be like

Could paint a thousand different possibilities.

None would necessarily be right,

For tomorrow has not yet come.

It can only ever be an idea, a dream, a belief, a hope, a direction

With a probable shape, but always, still, just out of reach.

It is ephemeral, fay, mysterious,

Not as set as it might seem.

For nothing is truly set or absolutely known.

There is always unpredictability in the unforeseen.

Everything can unexpectedly change.

Nothing then is quite what it seems,

Everything is fragile, transient, changeable

Though habit makes us feel safe.

Each swirling moment of time is full of so many different options

If life has not trapped you into thinking it is a dulled or set reality.

Or illness has not stolen you away from the world altogether.

Look then with new eyes at tomorrow.

Paint a wonderful picture for yourself and those you love.

See tomorrow unfolding kindly towards you.

Look with an adventuresome heart

At what tomorrow could bring.

Check out your confining views, 

Especially ones that stoke your fears. 

See the limits they may place upon you

Then chose to let them go.

You see, tomorrow is always going to be ahead of you,

Waving its flag

Saying this way, lies the future!

Yet it will never actually arrive at your feet,

Because it is already dancing further down the road

That you have not yet travelled

Though always seemingly close, it is still just out of reach,

Leading you tantalisingly further on, 

Down your own unique and very individual, yet to be created, path.

Comment:

To write this poem I needed to step above all the mangled, battering, constant symptoms, to see the world and tomorrow free from their entanglement. Then I could be pure poetry flying on the wings of life.