Dreams of a future self hastily

scrawled on fragments of

withered note paper, tightly

sealed in corked bottles cast to

the sea—messages meant to

find me in my past.

Words are my passion powered

with wings, an ​exposé of peculiar

sensitivity—I’m the astral riptide

that ​never wanes.

My inevitability is merely a

measure of intricate riddles

concealed in a quantum of

cause and consequence.

I watch from years ahead,

awaiting my arrival.