Hours of Farce

The seas were calm and the winds were as gentle as a baby’s breathing. The sky was clear and the handful of clouds visible were calmingly white. My footprints were fresh and completely unsmeared. It was a fresh start.

But it was just a farce.

Because the ground once again shook and the clouds overhead darkened. Yet I made no move to cover the burdens. There was no shelter big enough to take them. I let them soak, let them be drenched, and watched the downpour while I wait.. and wait.. and wait.. for it to letup so I could refresh my muddled footsteps and move forward to a place where the puzzles aren’t broken.

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