The Future

Artistic revolutions make the future from heresy,
What is unbelievable today, or on the sinners' wheel,
Is tomorrow normal, and the next day, passe,
Despite the vapid, faithful adherent's zeal.

Till the next revolution. The wheel turns, on thou,
Grinding on thine normal reckoning of what is and should be.
The faithful of the flame, once knowing, and now,
Tossed aside, the dead of the past, unconvincingly.

So move, and move again. Will you go? Forward!
To new paths and souls and signs and religions.
Who does not progress, indeed, progresses backward,
Or stays. In lost and hopeless, forgotten regions.

On? Or up? Or off? Or nether?
Beats me. The future is, as always, omniscient.
So. Why not go off to it together?
On a calm day, and a cruel. And one so heaven sent.

To the future. Take my hand.