False Idols, Fake Prophets, Fictitious Self

Hoarding gold,

I uncovered my poverty.

Coveting flesh,

I forfeited my soul.

Bleeding time,

I drew closer to darkness.

Seeking fame,

I walked alone.

Indulging rage,

I butchered the stillness.

Cherishing ego,

I guzzled humiliation.

Demanding everything,

I am left with nothing.

False idols.

Fake prophets.

Fictitious self.


There’s time enough

For healing.


There’s time enough

For grace.

It is useless to try to make peace with ourselves by being pleased with everything we have done.

In order to settle down in the quiet of our own being we must learn to be detached from the results of our own activity.

We must withdraw ourselves, to some extent, from the effects that are beyond our control and be content with the good will and the work that are the quiet expression of our inner life.

We must be content to live without watching ourselves live, to work without expecting any immediate reward, to love without an instantaneous satisfaction, and to exist without any special recognition.

 Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island


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Copyright 2016

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