At dark corners, in silent rooms
In warm chambers of chiming hearts
Hangs tomorrow- precariously,
As cobwebs strung by fate’s spiders
Our arms are too short…
Tomorrow can’t be touched
It must eventually come…
Even though tomorrow isn’t death.
Today is not today.
Today is tomorrow that passed away.
We want tomorrow! we want today!
Yet, we wish not to feel the change at night
If we wake, far away from penury’s clay
Then, tomorrow is a rapture-of-sorts
There lies hope;
But we still want to live here and now.
Tomorrow is light- it comes in aeons,
Casting tall, dreamy shadows on walls of un-accomplishments.
If tomorrow is a wish birthed in the past,
May we cast-away the tall hopes of yesterday.
Unto the dooms of those thick, black corners
That will never receive a ray of future’s light.
Tomorrow is drama- acted on the stage of gods;
The casts are mortal, roles are predestined.
We are pawns, struggling to interpret
From unwritten scripts- of dreams and wishes.
Tomorrow is the exorcist of blind faith-
When it comes, our phobias and other such legions
Are casted out for the swines to drown on
Tomorrow is the seer of today;
It possesses our souls in strange tongues,
And foretells of another tomorrow, yet to come.
Tomorrow might be lived in the moment:
The apocalypse, a reminder of our fallen stead
It might be a revival of olden moments:
In the ark, before the deluge washed yesterday
Tomorrow is fear for the perdition of man
Tomorrow is hope in the promises of gods.
Tomorrow is multi-coloured and bilingual too.
It is the rainbow that speaks in life or death.
If life are bricks and fate is a mason,
Tomorrow is today’s mortar mix
Casted in moulds of yesterday’s expectations
Tomorrow is today with a cloud of darkness in between
So, while some may wait for the night to lift
I’ll grope across the darkness’ maze
To live my tomorrow; even today.
©Poet Razon-Anny Justin