The fluorescent light of my mind’s eye flickers as foresight fades. A buzzing oscillation, an electric pang, a plunge into darkness. My future disappears. I am alone, suspended in time, reaching out for something concrete to hold, to escape temporal isolation.
All I find is empty space.
Is the future just a vision? A mirage of the imagination in the desert of the unknown? Is it a sense, a feeling? Or is it a prophetic window outside of the mind, a transcendent glimpse into the nature of time?
Whatever the future is, mine often disappears. It’s as intriguing as it is inconvenient. What’s the purpose? Is this the winter of growth? A respite before a new beginning? The darkness before the dawn?