Tomorrow

Not Just Any Other Day

We return to yesterday, — yesterday

with its, beclouded colours, its mimicry of sound,

its titillating aromas. We visit yesterday,

bitter or worse, seasons of mist, and

stormy vigils

We relive yesterday, as

we search backward for tomorrow,

The tomorrow — faceless, that has no memory, an

amnesiacs blank page, no echo, no aura

no love or loss — genderless

Tomorrow, voiceless — yet it greets us,

luring us, calling us, from some

unapprehended distance

We answer the call, taking with us upon

our sojourn, yesterday’s cognizant liaison’s — for company

tomorrow never asking— for our company, but

we are creatures of habit, whereas

tomorrow doesn’t even know that it exists

Hapless, tomorrow can not conquer our invasion,

nor send us away, or warn tomorrows

thereto come

Tomorrow, isn’t just another day, creating itself — it’s coming

never eliciting a common courtesy, sends no calling card

and calls only upon us

it will solicit a name change, an imposter — Yesterday,

Tomorrow, is not promised to us, but

It’s coming— come hell or high water,

no quarter asked — none given.

Copyright ©. R Tsambounieri Talarantas. March 13, 2020. All Rights Reserved.