Narcissist America

Groggy aching God wakes up to see his world below, cranky and skin crawling in mercy
Of his omnipresence growing older as these words appear on this page,
In the light of the spring to come holding its promise of renewal, while God grows old.
He holds his keys in silence, walking in protection for that of which has not been told,
Yet the fabled mysterious tongues well up again and leave the mind in supple commitment
To a better day ahead, when we grow younger in commencement of the building of bookshelves
In the imaginary spaces heard about in retired thoughts of leaving this ephemeral existence again
As everyone exploits themselves in profane obscenities that charges the air with desire. Hear me:
This may not go on till twilight, without the afforded compassion of your beloved vices.