A Threshold or an Impasse.

When you're midway through,
And there's a tug of war going on
Between the future and the past.
The latter attempting to lull you into mundane melancholy.
While the future makes you wonder,
If it is meant to be looked forward to,
Or to be shirked away from?

Day dreaming about the joys you look forward to,
To waking up at night with vestiges of ancient miseries.
Like living two lives concomitantly.
Seeing the present mould itself every instant
In front of your eyes.
As your mind acknowledges the burden of history
Wading in and out of consciousness.