Yestermorrow: Obvious Answers to Impossible Futures

Fill me with wonder, you architects;

Make me wander.

Let far be near at hand

And near? Up yonder

Let me not know quite where I go,

Let me seem lost;

Stuff my eyes with texture on texture

At any cost.

Confuse me with where I might maunder

And yet arrive;

And the final end of my journey?

I’m alive!

Let each twist and turn be target and goal

So that each jigsaw scrimshaw turnabout patch

Is part to the whole.

Let me be yang, or yet again yin

Let me not sense just where I’ve just been.

And whether it’s northwest turned south

Or southwest gone east

Brim my gaze, yeast my soul with a rampant feast.

So each part of the plan, every feature and phase

Is a chart where I’m lost and yet found in amaze,

Where you go to be spun

Like a weathercock wheel

In directions of sight, or mere touching to feel.

Let the scent of fine foods fetched to sharpen the air.

Move my moveable hunger toward an impulse to share.

But this above all, you but need name the cost.

Let me find a new soul, where I dared to be lost.