Paradox
    (April, 2042)

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I write to you, my future me,
from murky shadows of your past
to ask you please to let me see
what’s now to you and then to me;
my years to come to you have passed.

But you are selfish; you won’t share
the answers that could get me through
from here and now to then and there,
the how and why and when and where,
that I might be a better you.

You’ve found this note I’ve stashed away
in the box that bears our mutual name.
Now look around you. Can you say
things could have gone a different way?

You only have yourself to blame!