Forever

The other day I thought saw the future.

There will be peace. A jilted peace, its premise rejected by society and shunned by prudence. It will also be a naive peace, sadly vulnerable.
There will be a certain softness. Of body and mind. Of touch and feel and smell. A softness tempered by cold, often hard reality.
There will be a sense of exploration. A stimulating newness, frenzied despite its impending age.
There will be love. A twisted love that ignores its foundations. A volatile, burning love, doomed to incandescent glory and eventual ashes.

But these were flashes, mere glimpses. They served only to tell me that I couldn't know; my vision could be prophecy or fantasy, and there is no way I can be sure. But I don't mind that. Is it indifference, or am I charged by the unpredictability? Or am I so swept up by the promise, that its mere possibility is enough? If they come to be, what of the inherent contradictions in them? Will all-consuming passions be consumed by their apparent irrationality? If they light up life itself, does it matter? Is longevity necessary to justify exhiliration?

Is forever overrated?