If tomorrow is a rainbow of possibility,
And yesterday a stormy dream,
What is the making of today?
The place where forever we supposedly, unknowingly,
Sustain this cycle of human being.

Built up on previous thoughts,
But with a path that is not yet,
And never will be clear.

With what intentions,
Are simpletons such as I,
Supposed to look towards the tomorrow's,
If they are never to arrive.