If I were The Benevolent Creator of the Universe, I’d change the way a life is spent And let all conscious beings traverse Through time like space: No more existing in a row. I know, I know: We’d choose to face The hard days last If we could choose. But just how fast Those days would go If we could cut and intersperse Them with a simple change of pace. Just think how pleasant youth would be If youth were little islands in An ocean of maturity, Or how you’d miss your spouse again If marriage came fragmented by Your lonely youth. You wouldn’t mind The painful parts as much if they were redefined By their surroundings. Why, Just imagine each day bordered By a life a bit less ordered, Waking up each day to find Your when And where have changed. But I Am not in charge, so life remains sequential. Each day exists by other days So similar each one’s potential Passes in a stifling haze, While consciousness becomes more chronic. And if there is A Grand Creator, then His brand Is cruel, ironic: “You wanted life? Well here you go! Suck it down all in a row! Take more than you could ever stand!” And time, which could pass in a million ways, Continues, monotonic.
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