We take the present
for granted and stare
blankly into the future remote
as though we wish to be anchored there

a rose-coloured dreamscape
we carve from our wild imagination
our chagrin and angst we seek to escape
but end up in the wrong direction

the minutes tick on
the hours on our plight they prey
a mirage deceives our eyes
there's but darkness all the way

but all we have is the now
on such ground is our play
tomorrows*  is another land
that shouldn't be our foray.