There is a place for me, but for now I am lost in this storm, caught in it. I have no direction; I have only patience. I plod forward, not to go forward but to keep myself from sinking. I wonder where I am going, but there is an end to all things; this storm and myself must, in the passage of time, end. Yes, the hourglass of reality will spend itself, and the dust will be still forever. I shall never see it. This also shall pass; this storm shall pass, and I will pass; all things must pass.
Drabble: Passing Away
Tale Told 
Sounds like a passing lane might be more practical than the interstellar bi-pass scheduled to go in tomorrow. I was a promising writer, once. I promised my editor lots of things before he fired me for loitering. Most of the stuff I wrote was drabble + or even drabble squared! Keep it up; you’ll get there. Hope your cell is padded when you do!
LikeLike