You

Don't reject truth. It never rejected you. It shows you. It stands there before you, damning your lying eyes, your ears, your cowardly tongue...that will not tell the truth, in any case; and yet, to truth you must eventually come...to save yourself.

You may slide on by today, the erring son, the willful daughter, obstinately bent upon your own, that hump behind you, fastened to your back...shadow of the stone you use to block the sun. Oh, that most hated thing...the conscience, blast...if you could only make it go away...but can't.

You persevere, in blunt and forthright 'shun', pretending you don't care...or the other one...that act that goes, 'I am the higher road, the, do for other's every little thing...see how good I am? Here's the pictures.' But none of it will wash, for it was never clean.

Next time you meet truth, be kind. Ask of it the wisdom, you would not...but need as medicine, to sear your soul...to cauterize the wound. No price upon its worth will it demand, yet, it will walk with you, forever after...from that time, and you will have a real friend. You.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: St. Peter, Penitent...by Guido Remi c.1600