Tomorrow's Yesterday

It’s more comfortable to sit in a corner than to sort out a meaningful path, to stay in stasis at yesterday. I meant for my life to matter, I yearn for difference tomorrow though comfort means to sit around. How boring – though safe – to sit around, sucking my thumb, a tot in a corner hiding from fear of tomorrow, fear of the forks in the path but heck, does it really matter whether I fear the unknown or yesterday? How soothing is the fiend yesterday? Resentments dance with shoulds around oughts and regrets. A trivial matter lurks there for years, leaping from a corner into my way, blocking the well-chosen path to imagined triumphs and honor tomorrow. What if I fall on my face, humbled tomorrow as I have been these countless haunting yesterdays? Does nobility, courage of the chosen path shine brightly, or does disaster peek at me around another inevitable blind corner — ubiquitous “theys” say only todays matter. I could have been a contender. I could matter in grand schemes of the history of tomorrow. Does fame – or infamy – lurk around that corner? When I look at the future as another yesterday will it seem to have changed for I was around? Will admiration trace my innovative path? Like Merlin, God lives backwards, the path clear from one end as the other, matters’ meanings un-muddled. He turns around and surveys, satisfied, countless tomorrows and the coming versions of yesterday laid out clearly, unblocked by turns and corners. God’s present, around as I ponder each path knowing what a corner may hide. It doesn’t matter I can’t see tomorrow. It’s my God’s yesterday.