Memories of Future’s Past

We mourn for the various losses we afford in our futures acquisitions.
Ghosts that fade in the wake of present day.
Moment to moment,
marching forward,
the past drifting into the horizon behind us,
dispersing among the listless routines; gone.

Imagine if you knew what the sunset will look like
casting shadows over five years from now,
or how your hands will feel on the cool pavement after a storm
eleven years from tomorrow; push further,
twenty-seven years and you can gather the outlines of houses
that line streets of your house,
the scent of the interior,
the lumber that sits in your attic is still a tree at this very moment,
but you know where it will be in two decades.

You can feel the death of the day
when loved ones pass away,
you know when it happens,
so the present just sits heavy at times,
reminding you of how pointless it is to dread.

You see your children grow up,
grand children.
You know how careers will move,
where you sit now is just a memory waiting to happen.
Imagine the struggle you can have
finding the patience to catch up
to your memories in waiting.

You know when you’ll die.
You know how it all plays out.

But you smile and go along with it;
for the sake of those around you.

Maybe you're crazy.

And you have no idea.