Seasonings Of The Future Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Mysteries are usually reserved places in books for many
centuries, yet sometimes they sneak into minds of our
intellectuals.

Giving them seasonings of future blends, turning firmly
around, getting out of what used to be and taken solidly
as a reflection of a mirror.

Watching it move about, not able to anchor it down, be-
cause it isn't a part of reality, balancing what's seen
against bannisters and hiding beyond mirrors once again.