I am the Creative Spark, the Progenitor of All.
I love them, each and every one.
Yet those damn gossip mongers
Have tarred and feathered me
So that they cannot truly see me.
If those that they love and honor,
Love me, honor me and call me King,
Shouldn’t that mean something to them?
Shouldn’t that mean that I am worthy too?
I want to know them and aid them but,
I can’t if they continue to shut me out.
If I don’t know them, if they don’t open to me,
Then I can only guide from afar…
Which is as effective as a child’s fan
In redirecting a hurricane.