If when we die we leave earth indefinitely, we’ve been given our own forever.
For the loss of breath is the gift of the inability to dislocate all the things we worked to put together.
Our efforts will be etched into the nickel and become ours for all time.
The inability to see time pass is equivalent to It stopping, my forever, I am obsessed with mine.
Even some efforts extend beyond our moments, what admiration I have for those who invented the sail.
Here is the wind, we can’t see or control It, as It comes we shall harvest that, we can prevail.
Isn’t that life? The luck will come and go, I must fully harness a way to make such a force my slave.
Fulfillment and peace, the only two things God will allow us to bring to our grave.
Uncertainty is my friend, money is something they print, when I list all the blessings God continues to send,
I see reality is something he meant for me to bend.