The myth of the future A hollow word elusive in its avoidance of our eyes, a shackle stilling hands whilst wrapped in promising disguise, a dangling carrot stealing glances from the thieves upon the cart, this apathy of premonitions that moves the line from which we start Like a crucified messiah on a judgement day arising, a construct built of distant hope that destroys through compromising, the wolves say not to worry for the shepherd’s coming soon, assurances round mouthfuls as the flock’s slowly consumed Hands can only grasp what lays before them in the now, change can only come from sweat that’s wiped from today’s brow, not trading present actions for a settlement to come, dreams of future knots are born as the present comes undone
Posted on: Thu, 20 Jun 2013 05:16:32 +0000
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