Tomorrow

Tomorrow is a brand new day that is untouched.

Yet the lingering thoughts from yesterday weigh on you so heavily,

that tomorrow feels fated to be yet another today.

Alas, wearing your night clothes during the day will not make time go any faster.

The incoming rains and the sombre mood it sets makes the

whole week seem like an interminable ordeal.

How do you then deconstruct this one drawn-out day from its interlace? 

Maybe its defeat lies in the admittance of its power all too soon. 

A tomorrow wherein my life lived will be my life’s work.

A tomorrow lived to impress only these 2 people-

my eighty year old self and my five year old self,

With a yesterday waiting to take up responsibility for my

consolation prize of a today, which He politely declines.

With a promise to be held in great honesty of today,

Today, trying to create shadows out of existing life,

lugging remnants of the nighttime past,

Imprinting emotional markers on the next day.

Would it help to see the world upside down?

Like a resting bat enveloped in its expansive wings,

Becoming one with the rain instead of working against it,

Meeting the snow in the middle,

A canopy hovering a sense of coolness,

With the hells of fire from beneath us.

Would this reconstruct our timeline?

For, if I think behind me, I will break.

If I think ahead, I lose to me now.