The days begin to drag out endlessly

And still the Cloud presses down.

Even when he’s enjoying this quasi-life,

Slivers of frustration abound.

He’s been putting his life back together,

Doing his best with it all,

Focusing hard on his future

-ah, but there’s the downfall.

That Cloud is hanging over him

(that Poised-To-Smite-You Hand)

And makes him think of how God laughs

When you tell him your plans.

His future is unplannable these days;

The time for choices is done.

He rolls with the tides, trying to stay afloat,

Knowing his time will soon come.