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R. Sauer Enterprises A site about myself and my projects
The Library
A collection of my
writings
By R. Sauer
About the author:
My name is R. Sauer and I am a
resident of the Atlanta, Ga. area. I am in my late twenties and
have been writing all of my life. My writing has been for my own
enjoyment however, as the son of a published author (my Mother),
I have always dreamed of being published myself. During the month
of March I learned that my work was to be published in a
compilation of poetry called "Woven Magic". The poem
featured is "Love Sick" which in addition to being
published also garnered the Editor's Choice Award.
Had it not
been for some key people in my life I would not have accomplished
any of this and so I send my deepest gratitude to JoAnn, Yoni,
Mom, Darlene (aka DA), and the rest of my family. For those
interested in writing on the web you may be interested in visitng
the following sites. They are my regular haunts and I have found
them to be both interesting and very supportive venues to display
my work. If you enjoy literature on any level please take the
time to drop by and you won't be disappointed.
Angel's Forest of Love Birds: Hosted by Doll Angel, this is one of
the best collections of romantic writing to be found on the web.
Poetry, stories, letters, and lots of support to be found here.
Just not enough room here to do this site justice. Thanks again
DA!
The Kaleidoscope: Hosted by Mimi, this is a revamped
version of an old favorite. Poems and stories of most any subject
can be found here and like Angel's Forest, very supportive.
The Heat Of The Night Forum: Hosted by "Heat" features
erotic literature ranging from poetry to short stories. Not for
the faint of heart but worth a visit if you enjoy having a pulse.
Not that I would ever post anything here (wink, wink).
Sweet Lisa's World: Hosted by (oddly enough) Sweet Lisa,
is yet another erotic fiction site. Unlike the other sites
listed, this one is not based on a bulleting board. A beautiful
design, effective search engine, and excelent content make this
worth a visit.
Return to the Haven
View my Poetry View my Short Stories View my Letters
"The
Toybox" Email me
About my poetry:
Although much
of my poetry tends to be a bit "moody" or
"dark", it all relies upon one thing and that is
emotion. Before you assume that I belong in an institution please
consider that most of what I write is fiction with a bit of
reality thrown in. The emotions are real but the situations are
the result of creative liberty in most cases.
The contents
of this section (as with all others on this page) are my property
and are not to be reproduced in any form without my express
consent. "No askee, no takee"
Poetry of Love
Poetry of Love Lost
Other Poetry
The Woman I Love
The Woman I Love part 2
Aimee
The Festival of Music
The Portrait
“The Woman I Love”
By R. Sauer
She cares for me in ways no
one else can,
She calms me when nothing else
can,
This she does with only her
touch if that.
Every sensuous curve of her
body fits as if tailored only for me,
She is smooth like satin and
possesses softness beyond comparison,
Only she can give me these
feelings of love and ecstacy.
When we are passionate I feel
as though I could envelop her with my love,
Caress every inch of her body
with my own,
Make her feel as only she can
make me feel.
While she sleeps beside me I
listen to her breath,
I feel her heart beat deep
within her body,
I remember now that she is more
than a wife or lover,
But a living, breathing, soul
like mine.
My only hope is that I may
provide for her as she has for me,
and be wise enough to appreciate
that which she has given me for as long as I live.
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"The Woman I Love part 2”
By R. Sauer
She stands before me in a purple negligee’ unaware of the trance which her awe inspiring beauty has induced upon me. The glistening of her silk attire under the subdued light of the fire pales in comparison to her luxurious brown hair.
The delicate silk draped across her body accentuates her every sensual curve in a manner which is most intoxicating, stirring my innermost desires. The graceful curve of her flawless neck, the elegant shoulders upon which rest the minute straps of the negligee’, her breasts which are pressed sexily against her chest and the slight channel between them, her hips and buttocks flowing gently to the thighs and finally to her muscular calves.
I wish to touch her, to
caress every inch of her body, lose myself in the softness
of her skin, and do for her with my touch that which her
mere presence does for me.
I wish I could pleasure her in
the most sensual, erotic manner and bring forth the warmth
of my love.
Who am I to deem myself
worthy of such an angel when I am a mere mortal in her shadow.
So I must be content within to
gaze upon her in awe from below as she stands above on her
pedestal forged from my undying love, hoping that someday her
deep, brown eyes will lower their gaze to see that I
have been standing here in silent awe since the day her path
crossed mine.
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Since the day I was blessed
with you,
my love has been relentless and
true.
Entranced by your deep brown
eyes and golden hair,
no one else shall ever compare.
Pampered since birth, yes it
is true,
the only one for me shall always
be you.
When you falter and when you
fall,
Daddy will be there to fix it
all.
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"The Festival of Music"
By R. Sauer
With each breath past the
reeds a tear escapes my eyes,
memories of pleasant evenings
beneath starry skies flood my senses.
The luxurious grass beneath
me, the gentle fragrance of the ocean,
and the pleasure that can only
be found in the company of a caring companion.
The strings built to a fervor
and the tears are unleashed,
how lucky am I to have enjoyed
these splendid moments with those who I love.
How lucky am I.
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The jet
black hair which adornes her head flows gracefully along her face
and down her
neck where it gathers upon her
chest. The allure of her dark eyes sparkling like those
of a fawn, is broken only by her
full, ruby lips which glisten in the mornings light.
A delicate
red blouse with a plunging neckline hangs loosely from her
shoulders
emphasizing the soft supple skin
of her bosom. Her waist tapers elegantly to her
flowing thighs which are
sheathed in denim.
The
imagination runs wild with visions of fingers running through the
wisps of hair
which frame her delicate face or
following the graceful curve of her spine beneath her
satiny skin.
The mind is
clouded by thoughts of the love and warmth which this dark haired
vision
must possess. To admire her is
entrancing but to love and hold her within one's arms
must be heaven.
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Betrayal
Demise Love Sick (as
published in "Woven Magic)
Promises
Silver Necklace
She has betrayed my love on
many occasions and yet my love for her remains.
Why is it my suborn heart is
unable to learn this the simplest of all lessons.
She cries for my forgiveness
while professing her undying love for me.
Yet these tendencies of hers
shall forever remain in my heart if not in hers.
It appears I shall forever
remain unaware of this love she claims is mine for it always has
and always shall belong to someone else.
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My existance is based upon
it,
my happiness and joy are results
of it,
and my guilt and regret are
products of it.
It has driven me into the
arms of one,
it has removed me from those of
another,
it has been my salvation and
most assuredly,
it will be my demise.
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Why is it she tortures me,
With actions I cannot see?
Will our vows be laid to rest,
Despite my trying my very best.
Love for her consumes my soul,
Without her I am not whole.
My every effort in her name,
Do not let this be in vain.
In our bed, she’s sound
asleep,
All alone, I begin to weep.
The babble of a lunatic?
Just a man who is love sick.
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What causes them to speak,
Promises they will not keep?
Sleepless is the night,
When all their hopes take
flight.
A child’s heart is torn,
Without the chance to mourn.
From this trance they will
awake,
All the promises sure to break.
When all is said and done,
Hope will vanish with the sun.
What causes them to speak,
Promises They will not keep?
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"Silver Necklace"
By: R. Sauer
Shiny and new,
She draped you around my neck.
Still feel the high.
Seven years have come and
gone,
Tarnish and kinks have taken
their toll.
Wish I felt that high.
Bent and broken,
Around my neck you no longer
hang.
Much like her love,
No longer shiny and new.
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I am the one who loves you,
I am the one who loathes you,
I am the one that built your
pedestal,
I am the one that will tear it
down,
I am your wildest dream come
true,
I am your worst nightmare,
I am the one you hurt the most,
I am the one you loved the
worst,
I am the one that made you
laugh,
I am the one that will make you
cry,
I am your happiness,
I am your depression,
I am everything,
I am an individual,
I am beautiful,
I am repulsive,
I am educated,
I am ignorant,
I am emotion,
I am numb,
I am everyone,
I am no one,
I am,
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I am but a simple blade of
grass in this field we call life. I have spent the majority of it
attempting to reach a certain height knowing full well that
someday I too shall be cut down by the blade of death. I have no
fear of this, my enevitable fate but I have yet to fully grasp
it’s weight.
I have survived lifes
draughts, floods, and pests knowing full well that my demise
draws nearer reguardless. It has been my grasp of this knowledge
that has enabled me to live my life in my own simple way, for
without the fear of one’s destiny you may truely set
yourself free.
To realise and accept that
the scars which adorn my body are as much a part of me as the
flesh that they have replaced. This second skin of sorts lacks
the sensitive nerves of the previous layer enabling me to walk
through life in a most fearless fashion for it is not injury that
we fear but the pain associated with it.
Death is much the same
since it is not death itself that we fear but the pain or
discomfort experienced in the process of reaching this state.
When compared with that which is endured through out a lifetime
it is almost a welcome ending.
I do not suggest that one
seek out death but rather live without fear of it, for it is this
fear that limits your accomplishments and nothing more.
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About my short
stories:
These tend to be a bit lighter than
most of my poetry. The subjects involve automobiles and tend to
be a "spur of the moment" affair but I enjoy them. I
hope to move on to other subjects in the near future.
The contents
of this section (as with all others on this page) are my property
and are not to be reproduced in any form without my express
consent. "No askee, no takee"
You find yourself
sitting in what closely resembles the cockpit of a high tech. jet
fighter surrounded by a series of warm red lights and back lit
gauges. You turn the key in the ignition and the silence
that surrounds you is broken by the whine of the starter
desperately struggling to bring the engine to life. Within
seconds the whine is replaced by the growl of over two hundred
horsepower stampeding towards one thousand revolutions per
minute. As the growl subsides you pause to take in your
surroundings noticing the rhythmic pulse of the engine, the
gentle rise and fall of the tachometer as it settles at eight
hundred rpm., and the sweet smell of high octane fuel coursing
through the veins of the beast.
Overwhelming curiosity
urges you to prod the throttle with your right foot and you watch
the multiple gauges that surround you sway in sync with the
beating of the beast’s heart which resides beneath the
hood. You depress the clutch and are surprised to find
it’s weight light with a rather short travel. The
shifter slides smoothly into first gear and you begin to
accelerate as you release the clutch.
Your mind reals as the
acceleration takes hold of you and before you know it you are
shifting into second gear which promises to reward you with
identical sensations. You have achieved sixty miles per
hour in the time it would normally take one to hit the snooze
button on the alarm clock first thing in the morning.
The tachometer registers
three thousand rpm. as you release third gear and climbs at a
dizzying rate towards it’s peak of sixty five hundred
rpm.. This is acceleration like you have never felt
before, as if you have been catapulted forward by the hand
of God. You are overwhelmed as you realize that your
derriere is traveling at ninety miles per hour with less than
twelve inches between it and the ground rushing beneath it, you
want more.
Fourth gear and you are
closing in on one hundred and twenty miles per hour when you see
the first corner. A perfect ninety degree turn and you are
approaching at what feels like warp nine, panic sets in.
You stab the brakes and are forced against the restraints as the
weight of the vehicle is planted on the front tires. Upon
reaching the apex of the turn you simultaneously apply throttle
and down shift into second gear breaking the rear tires loose and
producing a perfect four wheel side drift Your body is
thrown by the G-forces being induced by the violent change of
direction your actions have produced. Your confidence in
both you and the vehicle soars.
Once you reach the next
straight you return the shift lever to third gear and resume your
assault on that which awaits you beyond warp nine.
Returning to one hundred and twenty miles per hour you hear
nothing but the howl of the induction system gulping air, the
rumbling of the exhaust as the engine exhales, and the rhythmic
beating of your heart. You shift into fifth gear.
The rate of acceleration
has slowed compared to that of the previous gears yet is
unmistakably present as you hurtle towards light speed. The
vehicle feels stable as if it has become one with the asphalt
encouraging a feelings of both security and invincibility.
Aerodynamics steps in
to put an end to your assault and you begin to decelerate
in time for the next turn which has come into view, a gradual
sweeper.
You approach at one
hundred and fifteen miles per hour, the beast lurches as the
outside tires fight to maintain their adhesion to the road.
Your steering inputs are slow and deliberate unlike those used
during the previous turn in hope of maintaining your edge in the
battle of traction versus physics. Traction is the victor
and you exit the corner without incident.
Your ride is approaching
the end and you begin the final descent. The exhaust
burbles as the engine’s compression fights to return the
speedometer to it’s double digits. After basking in
the warmth of victory you pause realizing that you are nothing
more than a “junkie” whose drug of choice is supplied
by a fast automobile and the adrenal glands.
Your appetite has been
satisfied, at least until the next time...
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When some hear the word
passion they may recall they’re first crush while others may
think of a favorite place, I, on the other hand remember a
certain automobile which occupied my imagination since I first
laid my eyes upon it in my youth. The concept of this
particular vehicle was nothing new since it’s basic chassis
had been in existence since the late sixtys or three generations,
however the design that had caught my eye had to have been the
most beautiful machine man had ever created (atleast in my eyes).
I would dream almost
constantly of someday attaining one however all I could do to
quench this desire was to purchase and construct every kit
modeled after this four wheeled wonder. I was fascinated by
it’s low slung appearance, it’s soft flowing lines, and
it’s purposeful stance all of which hinted towards raw,
unadulterated speed. It looked as if it had been driven off
the race track and onto public roads to run rampant amongst the
daily commuters.
Two basic versions could
be had at that time, one being a “boy racer” version
with all the spoilers and “tack on” gadgets money could
buy and the other being a more refined version which relied more
upon it’s uncluttered lines to get it’s point across,
this was the model I fell in love with.
One day when in my early
twenties I decided to begin a search for an example which I could
afford. As the search began I realized that many of the
people who had owned them did not appreciate these fine
automobiles as I did and had neglected them. My limited
funds and the lack of well maintained versions formed a
formidable foe against my hunt but on one fateful day when it
seemed all was lost, the “automotive gods” smiled down
on me.
It sat off to the side of
a shady used car lot as if being hidden from the glare of an
unappreciative public. The paint had faded under the hot
Georgia sun and there was dust on every exposed surface yet I
still asked for the keys. In the back of my mind the
decision had already been made but I put on a good show to pacify
those who didn’t see this vehicle’s potential.
A week later a deal was
struck and a week after that I drove it off the lot to my
house. During the journey the oil light flickered and the
engine sputtered but I was happy just the same for it could do no
wrong in my eyes (contrary to those of my wife).
For the next few days I
immersed myself in my new found project, completing mundane tasks
such as fluid changes, belts, and filters, however the most
gratification came when I began to wax away the years of
oxidization from the body.
As I meticulously buffed
and rubbed, the beauty of each curve began to shine through the
haze. I polished everything from the tail lights to the
wheel wells and when I was done I could see every gold flake in
the original “copper metallic” paint.
With the maintenance
completed it was time to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Now
there is one thing I have neglected to tell you which is the fact
that this particular example was only equipped with a small
displacement six cylinder engine so as far as performance was
concerned I had no visions of grandeur. It ran rather well
considering it had 160,000 miles on it although I later found
that it had been the recipient of a rebuild at some point.
The power was adequate for the average commuter due in part to
its being mated to a five speed standard transmission but nowhere
near my expectations, so, as time progressed and extra money was
available I introduced some modifications in the hope of
injecting some extra power into this little six cylinder.
The engine’s response
to the modifications I had made thus far continued to impress me
and in doing so caused me to alter my intentions of settling for
a reasonable increase in power. As I continued on my quest,
my wife and check book often became stressed, however due to her
support the check book survived intact as did our marriage.
By the time I decided to
slow my pace the engine’s output had risen from one hundred
and forty to somewhere in the vicinity of two hundred and twenty
horsepower with the zero to sixty times dropping two
seconds. Quite an accomplishment without altering the
compression ratio or displacement.
Through the two years that
the car has been with me many times came when it would have made
sense to part with it however the passion I described earlier
kept us together. It carried my wife to the hospital for
the birth of my daughter, carried me home to Connecticut when I
needed to get away, helped me experience the enjoyment and
satisfaction of both car shows and solo racing, and last but not
least it has been a source of daily transportation.
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About my letters:
When is a poem not a poem but not a story either? When it is a
letter silly. The subjects span a large range of emotion but all
of them are close to my heart. All are based upon some fact but
creative license has been taken in most cases. Your mission,
should you choose to accept it, is to figure out what is fact and
what is fiction. Good Luck!
The contents of this section (as with
all others on this page) are my property and are not to be
reproduced in any form without my express consent. "No
askee, no takee"
In memory of my
Grandfather Writer's Block
Nineteen Hours
Sorrow How do I love you
Priorities
"In
Memory Of My Grandfather"
By R. Sauer
There are so many
things I have wanted to say to you but I could never find the
courage or the “appropriate time”. In many ways
you were intimidating to me because of the high standards you had
set for yourself in your life. The same standards that I
respected most about you and tried with all my heart to emulate.
You were a father and roll
model to me when I needed one most and for that I will be forever
grateful. You taught me the value of family and the
importance of a career without saying a word.
Both you and
“Nana” were the best role models anyone ever could have
hoped for. In a world where the positive is often obscured
by the negative you showed me that there can be happiness when
you embrace the positive. I could not have hoped for
a more caring and supportive grandfather and for that I thank
God.
What saddens me most is
now that I have finally put “pen to paper” it is too
late to express my gratitude, I am however consoled
by the thought that now you are getting the rest you deserved
after such a full life.
Thank you for being my
mentor but most of all thank you for being my grand father.
I will complete school as you had wished and will give it my best
effort as you would have done your self and then I will journey
back home for an overdue visit.
Love Always,
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The
scent of warm leather chairs and the old mahogany desk is
overwhelmed by the nicotine from my cigarette burning unattended
in it’s ashtray. The air-filter in the corner whirs away in
a futile attempt to rid it’s surroundings of these noxious
fumes. The dim light of a desk lamp emphasizes the glare of the
monitor reflected by my spectacles.
My hands pound away in my
ham fisted attempt to put my latest literary masterpiece to paper
but I find my mind drifting from the task. Time and time again I
force myself back to my work only to revert to this daydream
state of mind. My brain feebly grasps for elusive words and the
text falls to pieces before me. I turn on the stereo and set the
dial to a classical station only to find myself turning it off
after five minutes of it’s distraction.
My eyes scan the room for
any form of assistance in this battle waged against subconscious
thoughts of you, and find none. Even these somber surroundings do
not provide the frame of mind required at this moment. Why
can’t I break free from these thoughts of you? Hell, I
haven’t seen you more than once or twice in the past year
yet your smile remains etched in my memory. Another cigarette.
More letters pelt the
screen leading eventually to words, sentences, and finally a
paragraph. Success at last, I declare to myself as the words pour
from my mind to the screen via these clumsy digits. The stumbling
rhythm of each key being depressed ends with the completion of
the first chapter. I scroll upward to view what has been produced
within the past hour and find gibberish. Garbage, all of it, I
swear out loud.
Sentences ramble as if
marching in an intoxicated parade across the screen. Ideas
butchered by the translation so badly that nothing can be
salvaged. A complete waste of time. I should have known better!
To go into this with a head full of mush was an exercise in
futility and nothing more.
These thoughts of you are
a waste of my precious time and interfere with any attempt I make
at productivity. The glimmer of your eyes and those ruby lips
painted upon the canvas of your face. The way your hair falls to
the side as it catches stray sun rays. Yes, I have indulged
occasional thoughts of what it might be like to be in your
company for an evening. Dinner by candle light to be followed by
an evening of dancing in a grand hall.
The tone of each piano key
echoing throughout the great structure as we glide across the
dance floor in perfect harmony. Our eyes gazing into the
other’s as your gown flutters between us. People observing
us from dimly lit tables in envy. I could entertain this dream
indefinitely if I allowed myself the opportunity.
A dream, a futile dream
and nothing more, I tell myself often. If you have thoughts of me
your eyes do not betray them. I suspect there must be a
significant someone in your life as I would doubt anyone like
yourself would ever be without the company of another.
So with this page I humbly
request that you release your grasp upon my heart and imagination
so that I may continue unimpeded by such thoughts of you.
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Long
nights in a cold and empty bed combined with the depressing
circumstances of my visit left me craving the open road. My
clothes tossed into my suitcase and the car topped off, I hit the
highway at daybreak.
The endless boredom
provided by my journey allowed me countless hours to torture
myself with thoughts of you. My body’s only salvation from
the rapidly increasing discomfort was the occasional stop
required by the car.
My mind was cloudy and my
senses dulled by the many long hours despite efforts to find
scenery to keep me occupied. My thoughts of you were all I had to
hold on to. The thought of you awaiting me was my driving force.
Finally relenting to my
body’s pleas for rest I paused at a rest stop to view my
progress on the map posted within. Inspection of the miniature
roadways of the map left me puzzled. Something was amiss! Under
further scrutinization I noticed that my path had strayed from
the intended course. How could this be? Could fate truly be this
cruel?
Till this point I was
under the impression that I had but a few hours remaining until
my arrival but now my image of you was fading off into the
distance leaving me no choice but to resume my pursuit.
Having plotted my new
course I attacked this new challenge with every ounce of resolve
within me. The miles passed rapidly as did the hours with little
sign of progress. A chance glimpse at the fuel gauge filled me
with dread.
It was shortly past
midnight and no fuel was to be found. My heart raced like that of
a man drowning within sight of the shoreline. I resigned to
spending this evening at roadside but only after trying one last
exit.
There it was. A beautiful
oasis surrounded by this ocean of asphalt. Bright lights gleamed
as if rays from heaven and once again there was hope. With a full
tank and a brief stretch my journey continued. At least two more
hours passed before I recognized the landmarks which would lead
me to you.
As I drew closer to you
and the warmth of your embrace the speed limits plunged as if
mocking me. I would not, could not, slow my pace knowing it would
add mere seconds to this never ending journey. I wearily rubbed
my eyes as I continued as rapidly as my nerves would allow until
I came upon your exit.
The minutes it took me to
get from the roadway to your dimly lit door seemed to take an
eternity but all my worries were washed away once your arms were
around me and for the first time in weeks I felt joy.
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The alcohol clouds my brain and dulls my senses as my mind drifts
amongst random thoughts of you. I attempt to focus on one of the
many fleeting memories only to be driven deeper into my sorrow by
the knowledge that we are no more.
Envisioning
your arms enveloping someone besides myself in a warm embrace
that once was mine and mine alone leaves me feeling cold and
empty. A twinge of anger invades me as I recall the tenderest of
moments we once shared. A vision of you in a flowing gown dances
across my subconscious leaving me on the verge of tears as you
pass from my view.
What is it
that has brought us to this impassable bridge in our
relationship? I wonder how it is that I had driven the warmth of
your love from my grasp and into another's. These feelings are
like none I have felt for anyone before you nor shall I feel them
for anyone since. How is it that you continue to haunt me so?
Perhaps it is
fitting that the one who once ignited the fire within my soul
shall be the one to extinguish it.
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These are but
a few of the many ways that I love you. To you they may seem
insignificant but to me they are an undenyable part of my life
like you are.
I often think that I love you
too much. The way I miss you no matter how soon you will be home,
or how close you might be. When I am away and have free time how
I will lie in bed thinking of nothing but you. How you feel
beside me, how your breath feels on my back. I could say these
thing obout anyone I was involved with but it isn’t just
these things that make me love you. It is your little quirks. The
things that only you might do. The way a certain dress you wear
drives me nuts, the way you giggle when I do something silly, the
way you snore, and although I don’t often see it or realise
it the way you support me.
In many ways you give me the
strength to tolerate what I might normaly dismiss. You make me do
things I wouldn’t normaly do and sometimes it might even
make me a better person.
In many ways you are the
exception. I wouldn’t have thought that I could feel so much
for a person but I do now. Yes you have your flaws but when
combined they make you who you are and that is someone I just
can’t seem to live without.
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The priorities of our
society, of ourselves are flawed. Bold statement isn’t it? I
came to this realization while trying to figure out some
depression related to my job. I discovered that much of what I
think of myself or what society thinks of me is based upon how
good of a worker I am. How quickly I can install an alternator or
how good I am at diagnosing a drivability problem. Can I tell a
square waveform from a sine wave? Do I show up on time, do I
respect my bosses authority?
At social gatherings it is often
the yearly income that determines your popularity, the weight of
your occupational title, or the strings you can pull in the
corporate world. How shallow we have become.
I am surprised we don’t carry these priorities to the grave but I suspect that death is the one chance some people will ever have to realize what lifes true priorities are. How many gravestones bare the epitaph “here lies the most efficient employee in the secretarial field”? Might look a bit silly don’t you think? How did we get here? Were these values instilled upon us by our parents, society, or is it an unavoidable human flaw? The cause really isn’t the issue though is it? So what is the issue then?
Perhaps the issue should be why we put ourselves behind everyone and everything else in this short life of ours. The fact that we value the title “manager” more than the “daddy”, “sister”, or “brother” titles. The fact that when the day is done we most often haven’t found a single moment for ourselves. Can’t have that now can we, might be considered lazy by our neighbors. Have to be a go getter now don’t we.
So what exactly would happen if we rearranged these priorities and put ourselves first? Would communism be sure to follow, would the government collapse? Would the stock market fail? Could we then be blamed for all of societies troubles? Perhaps but I doubt it. Maybe we as individuals might become happier, more content people and in turn be the better father, mother, employee. Isn’t that what this life is about or was I put here by whatever power to change your tires? I would like to think more of myself then that!
I devote time out of each day to my children because it makes me happy and a better person. I devote time to my wife daily because it too makes me happy and a better person. Most importantly I devote time to myself daily for it not only makes me a better person but also makes me a better father, husband, son, and brother. The fact that I may also be a better employee is merely a side effect.
There should be but one priority in life. Be true to yourself above all others. Do this and you will be that better person, father, or husband. Do this and you will live that full life. Do this and you will die without regrets. Do this one thing and do it well or death may be your only awakening.
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