Within, the commanding voice harps on – quick sharp! Pronto! A determined one-track record plays past stern encounters, the acidic momentos sourly directing with sharp, authoritarian certainty, the wagging finger disapproving of every-single-thing other than a crop-driven servitude, incessant sweated labour, day and night delivery; such are the effects.
As time waits for no man, so dithery seconds wasted become the precious hours never returned without the shackles of weighted value – forever lost, forever wasted. I could have had that done by now, becomes the unhappily intoned chorus, the hymn of disfavour. By days end there is no peace, no rest, no looking upon the works and seeing that it is good.
Quiet acquiescence, retired sighs and hunched shoulders bearing the unsmiling burdon, such was the recent response. Or a heel-dug opposition would anchor each motion into a slough of perpetual dysfunction. For both, depression followed soonafter.
Wonders abound when energy, drive and command combine; when the ignorant belligerence of former inquisitions is silenced. Taking the helm of destiny's ship, a course is plotted, marked and set – winds to blow or drop, it takes the time it takes, regardless of hoarse barked commands. Strange and brilliant horizons break through the clouded unthoughts, and with them are the novel delights that life holds dear and shares in abundance. And slowly, slowly, the inner smile casts the voice back to the emptiness from whence it came.
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