Billows the volcano angrily lava spittle dribbling down his chin, "I'm at the mercy of the clock.." his lolling drone like a dull metronome clanging to and fro.
Fists shake in angst their ephemeral silhouettes disintegrating into the miasma.
Biding our time we are all just blowing smoke
and cancer sells.
I apologize for this. I'm not trying to be so fatalistic at all really. As humans, I feel we chase after permanence like it was something to grasp--like we have that kind of power, control. We can make good choices in life, but to say that we control outcomes entirely seems a bit conceited/foolhardy really. We can impact change, but our outcomes depend on something more, at least that's how I believe.