Poetry About Future Novels & Stories

We will be a story in a book yet to be written, Remembered by generations we don't know. But this love, though time runs out, Will live on, though the world becomes mortal. Like the stars that keep twinkling in the night sky, Our love will be an eternal light. In the future, in whatever form, It will remain, burning, never dying. This poem takes us to the future, where technology may change the way we feel love, but the essence and depth of love will remain eternal, transcending all changing times.

A reminder that even the most broken things, weathered by time and tide, could become something smooth, something beautiful, something whole in its own way. “I will,” I said. And for the first time in a very, very long time, the future felt not like a battlefield to be crossed, but a wide, open shore, waiting for us to leave our footprints, side by side.

"But who sent it? Lyra is gone. The Editor is in the mail. The Owner is a puddle of ink." "The Future doesn't have a sender," Cian said, his voice unusually grave. He stepped forward, his eyes shimmering with that gold-ink light. "The Future is just a place where everything we haven't done yet happens." Mina reached out. Before I could stop her, she flicked the brass latch.

A future no longer bound by darkness, but written entirely in light.

"But you're a prophet." She sighed. "The future is predictable in some ways but in a rare sense, it can be changed. This is a heaven shaking event with no known end. Besides, my foresight is as useful as a broken film. You can see bits and pieces but you can't make out the whole story. I may write the future in my writing but it is to imply something will happen based off off from what I can see." Kurai sighed. "You know who we met so can you tell us what you know?"

The past was behind us. The present was ours to live. And the future is bright, uncertain, and full of possibility awaited with a patience that no longer frightened me.

I murmured. “Hmm…” He hummed, threading his arms around my waist. “Love, family, something to fight for. A future where our children and grandchildren don’t have to live in fear.” “Our children, huh?” A cheeky grin warmed his face. “Never say never. Who knows what might happen?” The thought of having his children made my face warm. For so long, I hadn’t allowed myself to think of the future as a tangible thing. As something I’d be a part of. Despite the death and darkness, the future had never felt so bright.

The specific, careful process of someone finding the words for something that does not have obvious words, that exists in a register where language is not entirely adequate but must be used anyway because it is the available medium. "Before you," he said. "Before you came to this packhouse — I had stopped believing in this." He looked at Seren. "Not in children specifically. In — the future. In the forward direction of things. In the sense that what comes next is worth the cost of arriving there." I was very still.

If Vera was a delicate, petite woman, Victoria was without a doubt the ultimate mature woman. Only Victoria could handle my size. However, she was my future mother-in-law. How could I do such a thing?

She was quiet for a moment. "I did not think I would have this," she said. Not sadly. Simply. The way she said factual things that had a large feeling inside them. "Have what specifically?" I said. "The conversation about eventually," she said. "The kind of conversation that assumes a future and populates it with things." She paused. "I have spent a long time living inside whatever was immediately in front of me because the further ahead I looked the worse it was. The future was always just more of the immediate present." She looked at the fire. "It is very new, populating the future with things."