Author Information
Future’s Tense
In my temporal capsule of cold gray darkness, I preserve the past but idolize Future.
I call to it and what comes-forth is the sweet echoings of spring.
For far far away, through life’s haze,
I can still see the dreams that time hence made masquerade.
Like the faults of contents shifting by, I fear the slipping of time.
However, time has already passed Future’s tense.
