Tickets, passes, reservations,
Moments planned for our vacation,
Days laid out like brochure pages- bright gems strung on chains of gold.
Yet, upon more contemplation,
Should we not show hesitation,
Lest fall prey as countless sages who thought future days foretold?
When we paint the future's portrait,
Do we not engage a forfeit,
To the very fragile fabric, canvas tautened underneath?
Though we may choose to ignore it,
Time obscures all sight before it,
All itineraries - magic tales suspending disbelief.
