Bamboozled

The word “corruption” jumped out from the pages I read today in Couturier’s Sacred Art, and I jotted a quick note: “Corruption: you can’t go home again, and you can’t start over as if the past never happened.” I guess I never actively looked for corruption much, but now, it creeps out from every nook and cranny. I see it behind every rock, and listen to its echoes each time a public figure opens his mouth. It’s a strange position to be in, I guess, and the best I can do is put one foot in front of the other, stepping carefully, but always moving forward.