It tantalizes,
just a bit,
those rogue thoughts
of tomorrow.
Now you see them,
now...not so much.
They morph,
crying in small voices.
And just when you think
you can look forward
you can’t;
retreating callously to now.
Maybe tomorrow
will make transition
more viable
than this shimmering,
shadowplace,
kaleidoscopic vision
of what must be.