It’s Here

The dark stays in front of you.
The future is something you do

With the innumerable deck chairs
Of your titanic past only growing

Ever larger as the deck sinks
Down and away from you.

You hardly notice any of this
Since you are, you are now,

And therefore you exist. The chairs
Need rearranging. Imagination is

Just the entertainment director
For this. Gesticulating, prancing,

And best of all, predicting
Where the water will go next.

But you can’t see the water next,
Only a darkness floating the chairs

That you and the director consider.
There’s nothing isn’t already here.