Yesterday’s tomorrow
There’s nothing much in states of numbness one can ever hold -
Endless whispers of tomorrows echoing todays,
Or a glittering of voices from a distant fold,
With the sons of fortune laughing in a drunken haze.
Having earned a rightful yearning to abandon fear
Of forgetting what is certain, yet resent it not,
Fires burn to ash of passing all the moments dear,
Times again that turn to face us, faithfully unsought.
