We are being pulled into the future.
I mean that the future really exists.
Like a cataract that pulls the current
Far upstream where we drift lazily and,
Unaware of the rapids and boulders,
We think the river will always consist
Of this easy glide. As a deterrent
We could beach ourselves, resting on the sand.
But for most of us stasis is torture
And it's difficult for us to resist
The river's song or to hear the torrent,
As if on moving water we could stand.
The future, in a way, is not unknown --
Over the falls, into the sea, the river flows.