Deborah Horton Writing

It changes nothing

increases stress

loses sleep

brings illness

changes moods

intrudes on thoughts

affects work

harms relationships

causes anger

manifests doubt

decreases confidence

it changes nothing

close your eyes

let it be washed away

Seconds tick on like a metronome of life

Whispering that there is less and less left of it

Here am I waiting waiting waiting

Striving to reach one goal then another then the next

When will this work bear fruit

Or am I missing the fruit already born

The lives already touched

Do I only see the forest

And have no sight of the trees

Listening to the tick of the clock

I learn to live in the seconds

Becoming

Ever changing

Fluid

Here am I

And yet always moving

Growing

Exploring

Absorbing

Expanding

Always on a journey

Becoming

Difficult, sometimes impossible, but the opportunity is in the doing

learning about oneself through forgiveness of others

walking through the wrongs the pain the hurt towards reconciliation

though it may not be possible to always achieve with others

achieving it inside your own heart and soul opens pathways to freedom

impossible though it is to fix others you are responsible for your own healing

make amends say what is necessary offer forgiveness and accept what comes

receive reconciliation either with another or within oneself

each leads to the path of personal peace

Marcus Tullius Cicero once said it is the peculiar quality of a fool to perceive the faults of others and to forget his own

As ever they see but do not comprehend

Much easier it is to put the blame on others than to take on responsibility

Fools are well known for having to say something, anything, constantly

The art of distraction from their own mistakes pointing to any other direction is perfected daily

Fools sound wise, often sounding all knowing, and they are usually wrapped in an eye and sensory pleasing package

Their words are like honey dripped diamonds beautiful to see and hear but they seep into every corner sticking, blocking the truth

And blindly the masses follow without question or conviction mesmerized by the sounds of tinkling brass or sounding cymbals

In the end, we are all made fools

So then who is more foolish, the fool, or the fool who follows him?