A poem about absolute uncertainty

Thoughts.
Lack of thoughts.
Too many thoughts.
Too few thoughts?
Deserving thoughts?
Worthy thoughts?
What to think?
Now think?
Then think?
Now or never think?
Why think?
Just lie, don't think.
Then regret to think.
Or regret not to think.
Or think about future regret.
Or think about regret of future regret.
Pointless, meaningless meaningness.
Meaningful rich possibilities.
Distant, close, unreachable possibilities.
Hungry, glutunous failure.
Deep uneasy breaths.
Dead brightful eyes.
Daring blind dreams.
Future.
Some future.
Maybe future.
Maybe.

April 8th, 2024