Past, Present... Future. Poem by Ololade Okunade

From pieties professed to deities by the men of old killing bulls and drinking booze
To the chaotic mass of constellations tethered to purpose by zodiacs signs
From Divination to necromancy,
From prophesies to palmistry,
Man's hunt for that which is to come does not cease

But why do we wish to know our futures?
Why do we wish to bail ourselves from pain by yielding to pain?
Why decapitate to cure your migraine?
Why jump into the ocean, to get out of the rain?
For ignorance can be more than bliss
Seeing as with uncertainty, comes possibilities
And with the knowledge of what is to come comes confinement that does nothing than restrict your grip from the feel of the things that can be

Why not live?
Seeing as there's not much else to do than it
To Tom, as though everything is a miracle
To Dick, as though nothing is.
And to Harry, both;
Eventually, lines will fall in pleasant places
But how sure are we beauty lies not in the eyes of Harry?

The future is nothing but a gunshot
Seeing its victims makes you count your days
For you never see it coming until it knocks
And when you hear the boom
You know that bullet isn't for you.