None of us knows what the future will hold, what even tomorrow will bring. The future is truly the great unknown. These poems are good ones to reflect upon if you are thinking that tomorrow will bring certain things as none of us knows what
tomorrow will bring. So be inspired to live for today, be happy today, and don't waste your day because no one knows what
the future will bring!
I have been told about the here-after, fully;
but of tomorrow, the day I must face in a few short hours,
I know nothing.
Tomorrow! It may unfold some new creation that will be of untold
benefit to mankind, a great medical discovery, a new scientific fact,
a revelation of the nature of the universe —
who knows?
Tomorrow! It may bring
a renewed attempt to solve old problems or
a new opportunity to help my fellows.
It may give me a fresh grip on my passions or
reveal another step toward a more perfect race of men.
Tomorrow! It may bring
again the touch of my sweetheart's fingers
or only the echo of my football here on earth.
Tomorrow! It may bring
destruction — or it may bring peace and
the beginning of human brotherhood to a troubled world.
The "Tomorrow-Days" are a challenge to me;
They summon both time and energy;
They spread afar like a widening sea,
And appeal to the best that one can be.
The "Tomorrow-Days" are the days for me.
The "Yester-Days" have no charm for me;
Their hours are a fleeting memory;
They've drifted to Eternity;
Their record is made — whate'er it be,
The "Tomorrow-Days" are the days for me.
Through all the "Tomorrow-Days" to be,
I pray as they pass so silently.
That God may Himself be a Guide to me,
'Til the day when His blessed face I see.
The "Tomorrow-Days" are the days for me.
It is ours to make the unknown future brighter
Than the fairest dreams of all the dreamers;
Ours to see the vision and fulfill it.
Fairer than we dream of, fairer even
Than the shining eyes of hope can see it.
Destinies Of Life
Poet: John Greenleaf Whittier
Know well, my soul, God's hand controls
Whate'er thou fearest!
Round him in calmest music rolls
Whate'er thou hearest.
Man sees no future - a phantom show
Is alone before him;
Past time is dead, and the grasses grow
And flow'rs bloom o'er him.
The present, the present is all thou hast
For thy sure possessing;
Like the patriarch's angel, hold it fast
Till it gives its blessing.
Like warp and woof, all destinies
Are woven fast,
Linked in sympathy like the keys
Of an organ vast.
Pluck one thread and the web ye mar;
Break but one
Of a thousand keys, and paining jar
Through all will run.
And in life, and in death, in dark and light,
All are in God's care;
Sound the black abyss, pierce the deep of night,
And he is there.
Be quick to praise, be slow to scorn,
For what the future holds, - who knows?
To-day the vine has but a thorn,
To-morrow brings the rose.
The Past
by Phillips Brooks
There are some who want to
get rid of their past,
who, if they could,
would begin all over again, . . .
but you must learn,
you must let God teach you,
that the only way to get rid of
your past is to get a future out of it.
If only we could see what lies ahead,
If we might look beyond tomorrow's portals,
I wonder if we should, absolved from dread,
Be happy-visaged and contented mortals?
Would all the hate and heartaches disappear,
Would glee blot out all memories of sorrow -
If we could see what lies beyond tomorrow?
If we could know what destines the fates
Are shaping now for us who blindly blunder;
And oft in vain assault forbidden gates,
How would the knowledge profit us, I wonder?
Would failure cease to break the hearts of men?
Would night's deep silent darkness lose its terror?
Would he that ought to dig lay down the pen?
Would all who stumble cease to grope in error?
We know that right is right, that wrong is wrong.
That thus it was ordained at time's beginning;
We know that honors to the wise belong.
That sorrow is the heavy price of sinning.
Tet foolishly we sin and venture where
the currents, soon or late, will drag us under;
If somehow all the future were laid bare.
How would beholding profit us, I wonder?''
"Some of these days all the skies will be brighter;
Some of these days all the burdens will be lighter;
Hearts will be happier, souls will be whiter,
Some of these days!
''Some of these days, in the deserts upspringing.
Fountains shall flash while the joy-bells are ringing;
And the world - with its sweetest of birds - shall go singing
Some of these days!
Some of these days! Let us bear with our sorrow!
Faith in the future - its light we may borrow;
There will be joy in the golden tomorrow -
Some of these days!
What I am thinking and doing day by day
is resistlessly shaping my future -
a future in which there is no expiation except
through my own better conduct.
No one can save me.
No one can live my life for me.
If I am wise I shall begin to-day to
build my own truer and better world from within.
Future Unknown
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
My future is unknown, its scripts are yet to be written.
The choices I make in life impact what is smitten.
What I do today will affect me tomorrow;
I will try to act wisely and not be hollow.
Every choice affects me on the path that I've chosen;
If wisdom forgot, my future will be frozen.
So point my life in a positive direction,
Do it right and learn from each correction.
Although the final outcome may remain unsure,
No matter how long it takes, I will endure.
Today is yours, its richness and its chance.
And all it holds - its opportunities,
Its penalties, rewards, and its advance,
And its restrictions and immunities.
Today is yours; your yesterday is dead,
And unborn is the morrow; but today
Holds something that by night-time will have fled
And left you staring backward in dismay.
Today is yours: how you may use today,
Tomorrow pays the toll; your minutes wrecked
Are melancholy markers by the way -
There is more strife than peace in retrospect.
Make this a day. There is no gain
In brooding over days to come.
The message of today is plain;
The future's lips are ever dumb.
The work of yesterday is gone -
For good or ill, let come what may;
But now we face another dawn -
Make this a day.
Though yesterday we failed to see
The urging hand and earnest face
That men call opportunity;
We failed to know the time or place
For some great deed, - what need to fret?
The dawn comes up a silver gray,
And golden moments must be met -
Make this a day.
This day is yours, your work is yours;
The odds are not who pays your hire;
The thing accomplished - that endures,
If it be what the days require.
He who takes up his daily round
As one new armored for the fray,
Tomorrow steps on solid ground.
Make this a day.
The day is this, the time is now;
No better hour was ever here:
Who waits upon the when and how
Remains forever in the rear.
Though yesterday were wasted stuff,
Your feet may still seek out the way;
Tomorrow is not soon enough -
Make this a day.