The Balance of the Future

The Future beckons, claws held wide.

I stumble forward, terrified.

The line etched in the granite floor's

A precipice; a fool ignores

Such limits to one's path but once:

"THE END" to Stories of a Dunce.

The Yearly Creature's gaze holds mine

I shamble nearer to the Line.

Without volition, I approach

The dripping pincers; I encroach

Upon the altar of the beast.

It hungers most and fears the least.

"Your time has come, decrepit girl!

"Now! O'er the brink! I'll see you twirl!"

.

I brace myself and with one final

Step, no more, the bound'ry line'll

Be breached. I pause. We're eye to eye,

And I am staunch. Is't fear I spy?

"We meet again! I'll take the plunge,

"If you can catch me!" Here I lunge,

My counterbalance strikes his knee.

The beastie staggers. Cudgel smacks

Against its breastplate. Future lacks

A sense of balance, teeters there

Betwixt the stone line and the air.

"I know I've got it! I proclaim,

"No future's coming; you can blame

"The Warrior Anna: Me!" I shout;

.

Then all tomorrows are snuft out.