We write dystopias
imagine ourselves
dark visionaries
We who warn
who see
in the seed
rot or
unfurling leaves

There is no such thing, of course
as a dark visionary
There is little power in
predicting gravity – more
in making the wind
on which feathers rise

We may hold a mirror to mankind
but any portrait, even the photograph
requires omission and thus admission
of light in dark, of
temporality
of the possibility
that the best really is
yet to come.