The Future was Past

“Gentle roar,” such a curious phrase
It considers itself unregal
And yet when near it brays

Phasing through a not so distant future
That which may be pending is revealed
Though it’s hard to focus, on the elusive features

Time ascends quite possibly, but inconceivably forever
It’s constantly humming, nearly audible
Like a far off memory of an obscure endeavor

A telepath sits stranded in a room
And locked away further in his mind
His eyes are shut, yet rapidly they move

Quickly scrawling the far off ulterior
A gift given to him by the pars anterior
(Which redefined for the common man
Is a part of the pituitary gland)

He writes of disasters, he writes of peace
He writes of technology, he writes of disease
No dates are attached to these visions
In his skull are several incisions

“How long do you think he’ll last?”
“They’ve survived twelve minutes tops in the past.”
He wrote of events beyond this earth
Yet he saw not his death, but he did witness his birth