Things old and young,
All were things to be
All are things to be.
If they were never meant
To be in the future
How would have they been the past,
And the present, and again the future.
Is the future an undecided mess?
Is the future an organized disarray?
Is the future another special dimension?
The equation of future still unsolved,
The strings of future still dangling from unthought processes.
How can we be so certain, yet uncertain about the Future?