Each Day the drops fall slowly at first as a tranquil rhythm sets in.

I thought that I was alone when it started, the slowly falling drops that is, but I wasn’t alone.
Of course not, how foolish of me to think so.
Yet, when he… uh, it appeared I knew, I knew that… that a being was there also, with me deep in the forest of time; where thoughts grow like trees and mountains spring from tiny burrows.
What does it all mean, I wondered, this mixture of old and new, of methods tried and true.
My mind began to produce thoughts that were not my own. How could they be for the words of the thoughts were to me unknown.
Mount up, I thought, mount upon your steed and charge!
Oh that sounded right and oh so good yet there was much to be dismayed about with this act of mental courage. For me riding on the back of a horse was not likely no sir, as my previous experiences upon such an animal ended only in … well not only a horse not broken in but it’s so called master lying still on the ground broken apart.
But forgive me I transgress, back to the story of dripping drops down down down it’s daily destiny, dropping determinedly, drip drip drop the deliverance destined for the dastardly dirty doorway of the devil’s doomed dungeon.


Yet again my story cut short seemingly without end but alas, why should one want to end when staying put is much easier than venturing forth, steed or no steed, horseless and adrift upon the daily dripping of the water Each Day.

~ by Vinnie on November 2, 2017.

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