The future, not predicted, imagined futures,
Not mathematical abstractions of futures
Swapped for pasts like beads on an abacus,
Just the future in the sense of a tomorrow,
Which is forever unhappened yet, that future
Is the absence, is the author of all hunger,
“Why we sail across relentless seas to plunder.”
Know this: because of that infinite not yet,
The backwards because that falsifies cause,
Phenomena continually emerge into being
And continually disappear. The whole mass
Of gravitational attraction is just the not yet.
Black holes are eddies on approach to the not
Yet. The nature of the future is the not yet
That conjures the is as always has been
From the never has been through to never was.
There is no end or beginning to the not yet,
Only being in the middle of what has happened,
For anything happening, always happening,
And only the unattainable never for not yet.
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