Grappling with a vision of the future
By Rosie Parkin (Lower Sixth)
I catch a glimpse of it,
As rivers of stars are caught between trees
By the flitting eye which too soon
Loses the flashing image that it sees.
It's difficult to make out,
Like the true colour of an iridescent scale
Which shimmers distractedly
And throws light too shiny, too pale.
It's even harder to imagine,
With a scope as great as that of outer space
And the present as insignificant
As it seems now, stuck in this place
Left only to glimpse at it
And make out what I can from the picture
Which I am striving to imagine:
Grappling with a vision of the future.