Existential Crisis of the Future




What is the future but a collage of moments
Waiting to become memories
Painted by the brushstrokes of the past
From the pallet of the present
Times yet to be created
We all wish we could glimpse into the future
Peer into the portent
Of our own crystal ball
What are premonitions but reflections in reverse
Remembering the stories of our experiences before they occur
As told by the apparitions that haven’t yet passed
Is there a future after death?
Or do all graves remain in the past

Tell me about my future
Your future is your story son
Built on the pillars of your present
And lessons of your past
Interconnected choices
Determined by the fate you make
Your future will be consequences
Of the choices you chose long ago
You will be what you are meant to be
Be only yourself is all I ask
You see your future Son will some day be your past
As mine is now so will yours be in days ahead
What does that mean Pops?
Its just another existential crisis son
Why don’t you tell me about your future
My future? My future is…
Paintings filled with secreted dreams
Red desires, true blue loves, green envies
A calliope of melodies yet to play
Songs waiting to be sung
Lyrics longing to be written
Tales of joy and anguish
Of love and anger
The future is bright and dark
Full of smiles and tears
Halls waiting to be filled with family
With children pondering their own futures
Laughter, sorrow ,hugs, kisses
Or maybe a lonely room
Sad and gloomy
Forgotten and abandoned
But its my future Dad
I’ll try and build a good one
I hope we both find what We’re looking for
Me too Son
Or at least mercy and forgiveness in the end
Don’t ever stop looking son, the thrill is in the chase
Without the thrill well……
Anyway my portrait is finished
My song is sung
My tale is ending
The future belongs to you now
I had my chance
All that was to be
Now just a memory
Go and make some memories Son

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