Rest is in Death: HoL 128

-
Humans of Lagos

"So a religious scripture says:" Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

Here's how I can interpret it: my employer is the person that calls, I'm the laborer, those that I supervise are heaven laden.

I have the pseudo-satisfaction, those under me are completely hopeless.

It's not my fault, it's the system that fully satisfy my employer, then passes crumbs to me, while the heaven laden remain hopeless.


Unfortunately, rest is only in death."

© FERT, 2018

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Clocked People

-
Image
Two worlds collide: the realm of moral absolutes and the domain of worldly pragmatism. We're taught to uphold the sacred tenets of righteousness, yet the whispers of innovation and progress beckon from the shadows of societal values. There are the '12 o'clock' purists, bred to prioritize virtue above all else. Their unwavering commitment to morality often renders them aloof, isolated from the pulsating rhythm of the world. On the opposite end, the '6:30' free spirits dance to the beat of unbridled social liberty, morality cast aside like a forgotten relic. But what of those who dwell at the zenith of balance, the '6 o'clock' harmonizers? They walk the tightrope between righteousness and pragmatism, intuitively sensing when to yield to virtue and when to indulge in life's sweet temptations. In this delicate plain, balance is key. The art of knowing when to be good and when to be bad – not for the sake of rebellion, but for the beauty of harmony. F...
Read more

Things Will Happen

-
Image
 Each dawn, I rise, driven by the fire within, Taught that idle hands reap only barren wind. I strive for excellence, my heart's relentless quest, Yet, like a pin dropped in the ocean's vast unrest. Results fade, like ripples on the waves above, "Not my day," I whisper, solace in self-love. My stomach growls, hunger's persistent call, My heart echoes, yearning for success's thrall. But today, a glimmer, rays of light ascend, My toil, soon crowned with triumph's sweet end. I'm alive! We rise, we fall, yet still we stand, Now, I ascend, my spirit, unbroken hand. For every drought, a harvest awaits, Every night, a dawn that breaks. There are decades where nothing happens, And there are weeks where decades happen. © FERT, 2024
Read more

Don't Die...

-
Image
Don't die, Change form. Amidst the rubble, Where once stood strong foundations, Now lie the remnants of what was. Shackles bind tight, The weight of struggles heavy, And the fire's fierce rampage, Threatens to consume all. Yet, in this crucible of chaos, I live. From the depths of darkness, The beauty of light begins to emerge. A delicate glow, Growing brighter, Illuminating the path ahead. I rise, Stronger with each passing moment, As resilient as the break of day, And as unwavering as the constant sunshine. The trials do not define my end, But mark the beginning of my transformation. Through the storms and the strife, Through the trials that test my spirit, I find my strength, I find my truth. I don't merely survive, I transcend. I evolve. In every ending, a new beginning unfolds. In every fall, the seeds of rise are sown. I am not defeated, I am reborn, Renewed, Reformed, And ever forward, I evolve. © FERT, 2024
Read more