The future of things past
Yet soon to come.
For the future,
Bright yearned for beacon,
Is built upon the past,
Not bound by the present.
The herald swims through the present
Not permitting it to cleave to the now
And forestall the birthing branches,
Myriad prescient paths permitting,
For those that have the courage
Or portent, luck or chance,
However you wish to dress it,
To swim the river that flows,
For those prepared to enter its waters
To where they were, perhaps,
Always meant to be.