time God (a poem by Jack)

Everybody loves the son unique..But they will never have it..

I am God

The sun beams.. Sprays and sprays..

The waves warm my flesh.. 

Baking my birthright further into my sights..

The depths of my memories tend to betray me but the depth of my subconscious screams the truths..

These yells and quandaries manifest in but a faint whisper..

Especially when I’m surrounded by so much chaos and useless banter.. All governed by the insidious entrapment of time..

Is it fair?

If you play the game, I guess you follow the rules..

Your value equates to the time keepers diction.. A matter of perspective..

Even though my time signature moves at a much slower pace..

Your value and my value in this paradigm is labelled by how much one can do for another with the time granted..

But not in an effort perspective..

Because the poor janitor slaves for 40 years at the same company and receives peanuts for retiring.. No not in that sense of effort at all.. But in the sense of.. I’m in charge so I dictate what is worth what– 

With love, your enemies
But I gaze at the sun daily… Just so I can be reminded who God truly is.. And with that.. Time isn’t so much what it would lead me to believe it is.. It’s my construct..

It is of me.. I’m not of it…

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