Our expectations rarely match
Reality, it
seems,
For it’s not
possible to snatch
The dazzle
of our dreams.
The same
applies to dreaded fears
Which cloud
a coming date.
The truth,
when it at last appears,
Proves we
can’t speculate
About what
hasn’t yet occurred;
Such attitudes
waste time.
Our future’s
either dark or blurred
And changes
on a dime.
So whether
outcomes fall quite short
Or
drastically exceed
Whatever we’d
envisioned
What is
always guaranteed
Is that no
one ever knows for sure,
Including
every sage,
If our hopes
or fears are premature,
Until we
turn the page.
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