JOURNEY OF A PEACE WORKER

Procrastination, oh procrastination! You are my second name. You are my  constant companion, a never-ending game.  I delay to put  up things, with a heart full of shame. My tasks and responsibilities are left unclaimed. The clock ticks on and the deadlines near, but I sit here and stare, without a fear. My mind is a jumble, my thoughts are astray, as I waste the day, in a haze of gray. Oh procrastination, why are you are my curse? You are a habit, so strong and hard to traverse. I know I should stop and take a stand, but you keep holding on my hand. Ok, so I'll sit here and waste the day with you by my side, in every way.  Procrastination, my second name, you are a never-ending game of shame and blame.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky in soft hues of gold and amber, I stood at the edge of my homestead, watching the world awaken. The crisp morning air carried the sweet scent of dew-kissed grass, and the distant calls of birds heralded the promise of a new day. For me, dawn was not just the beginning of another day; it was a time of reflection—a moment to pause and consider the path I had walked, the joys I had cherished, and the trials I had endured. In my youth, the rising sun had symbolized endless possibilities. I had once run barefoot across the green fields of Sergoit in the Rift Valley, my laughter echoing with the whispers of the wind. Those were days of boundless dreams, of friendships forged in the golden glow of morning, and of lessons learned beneath the great acacia trees. The world had seemed full of promise, and I had embraced it with an open heart. As the years passed, the sun rose high in my life, bringing with it both warmth and shadows. I became a man of pu...