The messed up mind

After a long silence in the unknown sounds and voices,
There is a storm, a deluge again.
Back here, my desk is piled up with scattered sheets and layers of dust
And so is my mind messed up with thoughts.
The strains of some chords entangled in the past,
And the struggle to move from future to the present,
Not sure how long will it continue.
I should now look out for some solace in the noises and piles around me.

Two questions

My mind was boggled to hear the two questions I was asked yesterday.

‘Who are you? ’ and ‘where will you be five years down the line?’

Is that so easy to know and explain who you are? No clue..

Is life so very predictable that one can easily know where s/he would be after five years? Are we actually suppose to plan so much in advance?