The future is an unruly animal,

which is to say it bounces off the walls,

feral and unpredictable,

twisting and turning with you in its clutches.

It has claws and teeth,

wild in every way natural.

Pulling you through the mud,

up cliffs and down landslides,

tumbling over the hours, minutes, seconds

and creating a path that no map can even chart.

It takes you to streams and rivers

you’ve never seen before,

carrying you through forests of trees

that brush against you in greeting.

It drags you higher and higher.

So high that the sky becomes your field of view,

clouds bright now but puffing up

in preparation for storms.

But just when you think you’ve gone to a place

not even oxygen dares to occupy,

you’re dropped down at the top of the mountain,

among the stars, mass of fur by your side,

observing the view, knowing that those jaws

and unkempt nails will soon recover

and you’ll be back paving another road soon enough.