The future what a peculiar creature, the future. And how you perceive it, because whether or not you believe it; the future eludes you, like a scene from a play that is unwritten Yet you sit in the dark and cold, afraid of the unknown and the untold stories that are your future, adamant that it will all crash and burn Yet in turn you do nothing. You have no doubts your dreams will die; shattered and torn So you cry for the "inevitable". But how can you mourn the unborn? The future is not set in stone until you carve it So make careful with your chisel, and you might make it.