When will tomorrow come.

Summary

When Will Tomorrow Come reflects on mortality, longing, and cosmic truth—poetic meditations on time, memory, and destiny at luciditybooks.

When will tomorrow come? Today has come. Today has gone with my life passing away into the dim memories of no more than yesterday. I dream of things that will never be. I hope that they form the structure of my design for the betterment of those who deserve it. But the confused are getting even more confused. The mystified are baffled by complex thinking. They are also baffled by the correct assessment of truths and order.

It is too late for me. I have squandered my entitlements on privileges. These were endowed to me by the universe during its composition and formation eons long ago. Who will pity the idiotic for being ridiculous, and who will have sympathy for futile behavior? The wish is upon supernovas in distant galaxies. These can impact the nonsensical. They can bring peace to the pointless.

Here and now, my foot hurts. It aches as I walk. The unrelenting ravages of concepts called life span, seasons, and occasion have demolished the symmetry of my face. They have erased the beauty of my face. I do not want to look at myself in a mirror. I isolate myself from the presence of shapely female hips and thighs. The glass is broken in the mirror and there is no one to repair it.

My mind is troubled by the nonsense and foolishness of some individuals. They consider absurdity and thoughtlessness as virtues of the enlightened and prudent. My few remaining teeth are on edge. I feel this way when I see the children of the heavens act like the offspring’s of the rabbit. This rabbit now dictates the standards of the weak minded. It affects those who give up commonsense for acceptance. The mule refuses to pull the plow and the horse will not allow a unicorn to ride it.

Does something that has been canceled matter? The log burning in the fire is from a tree that has lost it. A blade of grass that has been stepped on has an inbuilt mechanism to spring back up. What does it matter that dirt and worms are the ultimate crowns of life? The sea washes to shore as a wave and flows back to its place as an undercurrent. When it is all said and done the root will outlast the vine and winter will last only until spring.

A whisper in the dark is the duration of existence for an organism. People will laugh and people will cry, and all will die. All people will die. People will cry. People will laugh during the fleeting instant of time. But who cares if the cob is an integral part of the web that is old and covered with dust? A rude awakening is placed on the dinner plate. Those who think they are knowledgeable will lavishly gorge upon it. The destiny of this is the outcome of that. No person will escape the consequences of their decisions.

Who told her that she talk to me and be a delicious environment of my dreams? I did! One of my deepest fears is to die in the house and rot. To inflict anyone with the inconvenience of my decomposing smell. I fear deterioration. I worry that my body won’t be disposed of properly if that happens. This anxiety falls upon me as I contemplate falling asleep. Oh well; put your mask on anyone. I excel at being my more astute adversary. My thinking is my most persuasive nemesis. I limp into an undertaking that easily falls apart. I dream of things that can never be. I died the moment the universe was formed. Only to be born to die in a physical anatomy.

All is well in the fathomless depths of the nonexistent. It is not and is at the same instant in mind. Milk me away on any given day or night my darling and plunge me into paradise. Embrace me tenderly with your love and seed rejoicing into my troubled mind and fragile heart. Say all the wonderful things that lift me up and make me feel strong. Accept me as I blissfully get you. All will be well in the space and the dimension that we create.