O but how tepidly tired and dour,
How furiously, phallically fetid its flower.
Monotonously, mirthlessly humming along,
His listless life like a moribund song,
Sodden with pitifully petulant skulking,
Not deigning to die, but dreams of their sulking
Pervaded his psyche as fifty-five fleas
Formicate wildly, stinging suicide-bees.

Three years of contented, ire-inducing idleness,
Vacuous days lacking life’s latent vitalness.
Entitlement, cowardice, perhaps the antithesis
Is he of a man. Singed with syphilis,
****** from sentiment, his is the brain
Of one who breathes indignant disdain
For all those who threaten his thinly-veiled comfort.
The thespian of truth, he’d play the faux jumper.

Oh, as much as we craved independence.
Somethings brings us back to reality.
Then our independent ways fades.

With every single thought  we admit too.
The hardest one to accept is we in need of one another.
Even when , we crave our freedom.  

Which can be interrupted by God in a moment notice.
When his lights is our more importance.

Through, whatever shock that comes before us.
We realize just , how much God gets acknowledge.

Sudden lost of lights rather day or night.
Shocks many when it's not available.
And you realize things you depends upon lights for.

Oh, it serves a mighty purpose.
Even to these survivalists, where the sun and moon assist them.

It shock us to be without running water.
Which holds various importance to us in life.

Without it , you see the complaints.
Like farmers crying about the need for rain.
Which we do to take a bath.

Oh, we have the rivers and the streams.
Which shocks us back to reality  of its importance.
Where we see the vitalness of Genesis in play?

Where the Almighty created every single thing?
And it's still something for us to witness too.
That lights, even water  is the key to this earth.

And when you look around your house you see, it operates things of importance to us.
Same, as the word, we come to know called love.