AugPoWriMo 28

So much catastrophe we can foresee
And predict how little we know what will
Happen at any given time we don’t
Know if we will wake up in the morning
Or if we will fall asleep in the night
Sometimes our dreams give us a vision of
The past as we wish it might have happened
Others possess the unfortunate task
Of waking us from a sleep so soundly
We cannot tell the difference between
The drift and the stream endlessly obscured
By the life of what we know will one day
Come to pass unknown to the memory
Of us living the quintessence of dust