Show Me Something Beautiful

She grits her teeth in a feral smile, body glistening in gore – your own vital fluids decorating her in shining velvet glory. She’s always hardest on those she loves the best.

“Show me. Show me something beautiful. Show me something beautiful, and I will let you live.”

It’s hard to fight, when you’re on your knees, blood on your fingers, a thousand cuts breaking through your mind, a million slights, shattered hearts, broken dreams, lost hopes – it’s hard to fight when Life keeps winning…

But every time we hear that clarion call… every time that woman stands before us, naked, golden, glorious… something in our cells answers… something beyond primal is provoked… and we take another breath.

It’s not your fault that she’s a cruel mistress.

It’s not your fault that you’re hard-wired to believe in her pretty lies – programmed to gut your soul and tear your consciousness limb from limb to become all that she tells you you can be…

Something beautiful.

Something worth remembering…

So you reach into that empty cavernous maw that used to be your chest. You breathe in, once more. You write poetry in your mind, your eyes seek out amazing sights – sunrise on dew drops like jewels in the desert, the breeze whispering through the leaves, making waves on the earth, the simple act of touching another living being and by that touch, offering comfort, offering peace, offering love. You decorate your spirit with the pain of every struggle, every challenge you survive. You hold your hand out to the world, knowing they’re all as tragic as yourself, and no one should ever be alone like that.

You show her…

And she is satisfied…

For a moment.

Keep fighting the good fight. In the end, it’s not really about impressing her, anyway. It’s about what you make of yourself. It’s about whether you’re worthy to YOU.

Eventually, you won’t have anything left to show her… and bored and distracted, she’ll wander off… but by then it just won’t matter. You won’t need her anymore. You’ll be a glory in your own right, and by your own hands made.

Then her sister, your savior, will come for you… your pain will end, and you will know peace. You will be as precious a jewel as ever illuminated the earth, memories enshrined in the collective unconscious, proof that man can evolve – that we can do better than this. That we have, and we will.

Until then… take one more step.

After all…

What other choice do you have, chained to her mercies as you are?


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