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What did you see on the horizon?

Was it something beyond the sunrise?

Perhaps a fleeting hope?

Floating amidst the early rays,

Accompanied by the warmth from the coming dawn.

Or was it the despair of the past?

The ever encroaching past,

The relentless chains the wind and bind.

Perhaps it was neither, and rather, a dream.

The dream of a transient tomorrow.

A tomorrow that will end as swift as yesterday,

Yet last an eternity in this one moment.

A tomorrow as fleeting as hope,

As binding as the bleak past,

And as transient as the seasons.

A blessing, or perhaps a curse in guise?