You know what they say about hindsight? They’re wrong.

Untitled Poem

When we look upon the future in a present sort of way
It is cloudy in our vision, and we cannot clearly say
What’s the future scene we’ll glance on? What must surely then transpire?
None can give a true prognosis; every futurist’s a liar.

When we’re looking back on what has been, ’tis clearer to our view;
We can see the whys and wherefores, what to laud and what to rue.
History’s an easy mark because it’s had its final say
We can talk it round in circles, it can never tell us “‍nay‍”.

Here’s the truth: the past, the future, they are of a single kind.
Explanations all are guesses, time confounds the clearest mind.
You can ponder or expound upon what’s been or what will be;
Either way, it’s all just guess-work; truth is very hard to see.