Poem by Zach Stipic

The future is two generations from now. There will be a state of collapse and you are a powerful ruler who is feeling outraged because you are studying a map. Woe is me. Woe is my map. Where oh where is the treasure? Has it all been found in the past? But I am in the future. I am a ruler who does not appreciate the past. And those who do not appreciate the past are destined to rule the future forever. If only I can find that damn treasure. Wait... is this not the map of the future? Or is this the map of the past? If I am in the future then am I not also in the present within the future?

I look up from the map and notice that I am nothing more but a clock, constantly waiting and searching. Always moving but never going anywhere.

How much longer will this search go on for? Where is the treasure? Is the future not my treasure?