Transition

The journey begins, at the threshold of reality,

Growing up into the beginning of the other side of reason,

Eternity just took its first step into time,

Thus begins the countdown to the future.

But then, what future? Could it be a future

Laced with frivolities and grandeur

And of grown wantonness?

Or could it be simply the end of one era-

The Golden Age of perfect creation where

Life was at its most idyll form?

Gold gives way to silver, silver, bronze,

Bronze, iron. Stone is king, and the author

Of all foolishness. Yet at the threshold is a decision birthed-

Present or future, two prongs of a forked road,

The signpost, cold comfort, for:

‘Here you stand traveller, at the first point

Of your journey into the unknown depths of infinity.

Whither way you choose, you just might regret and choose the former.

Only one choice; to go back is death. The past is erased,

Lost in the deep wide chasm of time. You age, now choose.’

Thus begins the beginning of life, a voyage

Into the nothingness of future or the bliss therein- at a fork, I stand.