I found this poem on my computer. I don’t remember when I wrote it, but it was last edited in April. It still needs a lot of work, but the capital C holds a certain resonance for me.

Uncertain Age

I see them.

In an uncertain age,

they are Certain.

They are the ones to fear.

False prophets

Leading you through lands uncharted

Pretending they have a map

I think I want to be one of them.

The part of the poem that really intrigues me is the last line. What would compel me to write that? The last line feels out of place now, but I wonder if the poem hinged on that last line originally. Aside from the last line, it partly captures a feeling I feel more strongly now, particularly, “They are the ones to fear.”