The future is always blank.
The pitch darkness,
to which we step;
the unavoidable;
the non-descripant.
There is always a question
which is just the commencement
of the entangled web,
of questions and doubts,
of the unpromising days,
of the unrecognisable times.
Alas, what do a mere mortal do
but to continue his journey?
Its a fact;
its the future;
no one can deny,
no one can guess,
what holds in itself ,
what unfolds to itself,
is doom or divine.
No comments:
Post a Comment