The future

Walking along the wheat-lined path
The future smiles in the wind
The past orchestrates and plays its wrath
As the singing breeze begins to din

Question-marks sprout like giant beanstalks
Impaling the clouds, making them bleed
Tears of pasts and presents walk
Hand-in-hand in this great deed

Sunshine on the trees creaks to a standing halt
As all the paths in front of me split and veer
The fields open up an infinite vault
They have my horse backing up to the rear

Perhaps they mean no ill deed
Perhaps they just line the road
Perhaps my heart will be joyful
Accepting the way without greed.
Picking up the seeds I sowed
And the leave questions unanswered
As they waft away in the summer wind.