So many aspects of life we think we can control.

How foolish of us!

What a grand illusion “control” is.

I try to control how I raise my children and steer them in the direction as to what is right and wrong, but ultimately I do not know what the outcome will be. No control there. I try to control all the incoming germs and protect us all from the scary virus out there, but do I know if we are all ticking time bombs? What control?! I try to control the checkbook and manage the household but then a major incident occurs or something breaks that is bigger than the bank holds. Well, you get my point.

There is nothing wrong with the above management skills to stay on top of the daily comings and goings. It should be a priority in everyone’s life to raise their kids right, love on them. Balance the checkbook. Use the masks and sanitizers. But, we get it all twisted when it doesn’t go our way after all the effort made.

That’s life ya’ll.

Control is an illusion. And if you let it impact you in such a way that you are demolished when that becomes reality to you, then it is most certainly time to reassess your measures, reasonings and well, your pride.

We all are lucky to be here. Look at all the violence, corruption, hatred, and sickness that surrounds us on a daily basis. Do we have any control of that?! I wish.

So loosen those fists that are white knuckled from all the heavy lifting you are doing. All the loads you are carrying that aren’t really yours to bear. What good is any of that doing for you or your fellow brother, friend?

Have a little Poe to begin your week….

A Dream Within a Dream

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow —

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?