The Slate of Things to Come...

Will the words and images
upon the slate right now
be stained upon each visage
forbidden to ever disavow

I look at these faces passing by
and read the slate on them inscribed
Expressions as if words transcribed
proclaiming fate or a slate's old lie

Is this the slate of things to come
Is all that can be- all that's done
Is this the slate that wars have won
Is all that's left now to become

Will this slate be cleared away
so all that's done is yet to do
and everything is rendered new
with only blanks allowed to stay

I look into the vacant sky
with clouds that hide the stars behind
and wonder if their lights would mind
knowing that their source must die

Is this the slate of things to come
Is all that's to be- to be undone
Is this slate one continuum of none
Is all there is, all to succumb

Will this slate be an old addendum
attached to some lost referendum
detailing the limits on life's momentum

I look upon some pages written
in words to make its readers smitten
with hopes they'll never be unwritten
by authors other than the underwritten

Is this the state of things to come
Is all there is confined to some
Is this slate wisdom for the dumb
Is this the remainder of its sum

If the slate is set in stone
why grind against it to atone
If the slate is of the fade
what use exists in all that's made
If the slate is something to impute
what then do we constitute

What is this slate of things to come
  Do I inscribe my life upon its face
  Is it the outline that I trace
 Or something that I just can't place
What is this slate of things to come