The future is lurking and I see it spying on me, whispering "now what?" through the salt fog and crusty moon spits before me.
Have you what it takes to forge on without the net it wonders, wonders in my mind at night when the jazz is slow and low as the light.
I see the future bending and shaping under the graceful gaze of the past, undulating, modulating hungry, waiting and fast.