The things he said just seemed ridiculous,
As everything a prophet says must sound,
For we are certain that the future's open
And prophets mean the future must be known.
But boundaries are never absolute--
The boundaries of these poetic lines
Are not deterministic--freedom grows
In spaces that each good rule will define.
The futures whisper in the prophet's ear
In metaphoric lines like rapid streams
And rivulets that therefore are poetic
And often come in vivid fever-dreams.
Our branching choices speak from future times
Through whisper-voices that but speak in rhymes.