The Invitation

Friends and lovers are often like those who take me into their circle.
What do I get, and what do they want? Well, what I get is a pic of some young woman revealing her more than ample bosom, or her more than ample buttocks. But when I try to find out more about that person, I come to realize, there is no more than that...to that person. There is only a little icon inviting me to reciprocate. I don't reciprocate anymore. Show me a soul first. Show me more than you have to show...to let me know...who you are. 

Men do this to me too. Don't do this to me. Show me what you got. I enjoy the form...oh yeah, but if that's all it is, and there's no more, no soul...then, what do you really want of me, my soul? You can't have my soul. It's mine. It's all I have, it's what I will carry to my next life and my next...it's what you will note when you comment..."There's just something about him." or 'her, if I come back as a woman...but I don't think I will come back as a woman, because I think that's just so much political correctness. 

I think I will come back as I am, with more experience, round upon round...until finally, I need come back no more. We are who we are. It doesn't matter if we put a dress on it, or smear it with lipstick. It doesn't matter if we embellish it, or add an extra two inches to parts of our stature. It doesn't matter if we come with hair or hairless, or if it hangs on this side or that, of our boxers. What matter's is what is within, what we came with, and what we've done to improve our lives and the lot of others, and this terribly sad and forgotten world.

You see, people who are truthful, and who are trying to  learn the right from the wrong, are like me...they may not 'get it' at first, but they finally learn to  see through the lie...they learn to recognize beauty from beastly, to identify this and that, to understand a pretense, a cover up, a bad hair piece...they grow and get better within themselves...while the phonies just continue to  use the same old bait...just bad fishermen, altogether. And, here you'll be, living in this world alone. Everyone see's your horns...we all have horns...give it up.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Art: Hylas and The Nymphs, by John William Waterhouse 1896