Poetry About Future Novels & Stories

Something still being built. Something still ahead. That was the best possible thing. The future was always the best possible thing.

His mood changes where the gloom of his future rings and He, declares with the words. “Now, now, now. Look carefully and be attentive enough, I want you to see the future of the puppet that will draw that supposed to be a none existing soul in the future to betray the ‘Maiden’, and be the key of the gate of Pride.” Laying the words and the fraction of the future and what it holds. His cunning smile draws in that void of time and space as He snaps His finger opening the mirror of the far future, with the pentagram to see and where he needed to remember.

We belong here, we can build future. But what happens when the past refuses to let me go?

I needed to make it look real like I desire nowhere else. Growing up with my late mother, I don't have any lofty dreams. I only wished to live together with my mother, go to school and come out with the best grades and find a reputable organization to work with. Building up a new family is not part of my dream. I blamed my parents for falling for one another, and I told myself that I won't fall in love as my parents did. Fighting against all odds to be together in the end they were separated by death untimely. I have not for once thought of visiting any country abroad.

“That was me from the very near future, who went to the kids’ school. Me in the present is not responsible for his actions.” “You from the future? What are you talking about?” My patience was running thin, and Carver was clearly enjoying my inner turmoil. He leaned in habitually and raised his brow. “It’s a possibility between us, love. My future self is sure about it.” “Oh, really!” It wasn’t too late to answer him in his way. So, I lifted my head, minimizing the distance from his sinfully alluring face. “I have that poison in my bag. Do you want it now or should I save it for the near future?”

I feel it in my bones. The future is mine. I just have to be patient.

Behind us, the old sacrificial ground hums—not hungry, not dormant— Working. And for the first time since the world was built on broken things, the future doesn’t ask to be paid in pain.

The stranger at the train yard—herself. She thought of fire. Of ash. Of the way the future loomed closer with every page. And for the first time, Ava asked herself a question she wasn’t sure she wanted answered: What if the letters weren’t here to save her? What if they were here to break her?

It was a harmonious bridge, bridging the gap between realms that had long been at odds with one another. Even though there was a growing sense of tension, there was also a subtle but noticeable feeling of possibility. This created a chance for a future that could be different and separate from what had happened in the past. As I looked up at the moon, its ethereal glow captivating my attention, a sense of possibility and hope washed over me. In that moment, I couldn't help but entertain the idea that perhaps, against all odds, the future I had always dreamed of was actually attainable. The moon, with its distant yet alluring presence, seemed to symbolize the endless potential and opportuniti

“That’s not a bad thing, Lyra. It means you get to choose who you want to be. And no matter what, we’ll always be together.” The fire crackles softly between us. Possibility races through me, bright and unstoppable, like sunlight breaking over frozen ground. For the first time since exile, the future doesn’t look like a narrow, lonely road. It looks wider, clearer, wilder, and unknown.