100 years

Who are you reading curiously this poem of mine

A hundred years from now?

Do your minds still spiral into a darkened abyss,

With shaky legs and shaky arms,

Wondering how you got this far?

How you’re getting farther away from light,

And now walking into the fight of life,

A hundred years today? 

Do you stare at the lines

The ones written in the daylight skies

– Written from every dust and speck

Molded into modern-aged art – 

A hundred years from now?

Do you watch the wind tear through the summer leaves?

Or, is your planet much more surpassed than mine?

It’s such a shame the way our lives were made to be

A hundred years each lived differently. 

In a hundred years after me,

Will you be afraid of the sea?

Will you fear the timeless waves 

And how they’ve crashed over memories made?

A hundred years later to me,

I imagine you’ll have no sea;

There’ll be no waves washing memories away,

And there will be no place to throw your love.

But at the bottom of the ocean

Is where you can find me.

They say “the past never truly dies

It is there, waiting, just below the surface of the now."

But I fear,

A hundred years from now,

The past will be nothing but a dream 

– A simple thought doused in poor man’s recognition – 

That we can never earn back.

The times will change

And so will everyone with it.

Well, I don’t want to live and forget,

I want to be buried with all my recollects,

And leave the question of

“How much have we changed

A hundred years from their day?”

January 2023