Of Predictions

Past and the future,

there is the unheard and unseen,

letters unread and jarred pages of old books,

some messages in the corners

and sounds of a safe womb.

Take me back to the beginning,

and let me take a breath of the fresh,

I am walking too fast I know,

but the options are few.

I read the new and the old,

with stars and sunshine,

but hope of the future dies,

everyday in these eyes.

Living on further,

of love and of life,

families and friends,

some nights of fireflies.

I will go gentle into the light of to be,

and look back at the dark with some shimmering canopies,

Some light and courage is all I will take beyond,

predictions of despair will still belong.