Picturing

I'm standing,
face forward,
before the blank wall
of what's next,
trying to picture
what lies ahead.

It's easy to see
what's behind me,
a shiny reflection
framed by now,
but redundant
to turn around
and go back down
that familiar street,
bright as heaven,
empty as hell.

So I guess
I'll stand here
and wait,
picturing...

Eventually, I'll turn
into a ghost
and walk right
through it.