The Glorious Future

A poem

The flying cars, they never came,
Nor cures for cancer, cold, or flu,
Microplastics in our brains and
Loneliness that spreads like wildfire. 

The thing to remember is that
Our parents were deluded too.
We were all lied to for so long 
By so many who had this hope. 

They weren’t all malicious though, just
Operating with the knowledge 
They had at the time, imperfect 
Though it was. I prefer the truth 

But compared to the cynics and
The dark clouds portending only
Pain on the horizon, I think,
Though wrong, that I would take the hope.

- Alexander

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