Friday, March 20, 2015

Beehive Ardor

BEEHIVE, STORY, ARDOR


Illustration of a woven beehive in a natural setting.
I’m a homosexual. What am I looking for in the world, or in life? What do I want? I go forth every day, for what? What is my purpose? Do I have a purpose? Do I need to have a purpose, or can I just go along and live until it’s over? That may be what I will do whether I like it or not: Just eke out my poor, little life until it’s over. Nothing special. Nothing remarkable. Just me, here and now, like billions of others, getting by.

I go forth every day. Am I looking for a man or a woman? Am I looking for a friend or a lover? Am I looking for success? What do I want? I don’t know that I’m looking for anything in this sorry old world. The longer I live, the less I want or expect or hope for.

I love men. I love women too, but not the same way I love men. I love men and they have returned my affection all my life. Men love me too. In a sense, I have gone out all my life looking for a man to love. I have gone out every day, all my life, looking for a man to love. I go out every day looking for sex, looking to make a serious sexual connection. Isn’t that awful! Isn’t that supposed to be awful? Why don’t I want to do it with women? Why don’t I do it with women? Why do I want so much to do it with men? And, does it matter which sex I want to do it with? I want to do it. I want to make a passionate, sexual connection with another man.

Our lives are full of stories. All of us, every one of us poor mortals, are made up of the stories we tell about ourselves and our lives. Stories. Every one meaningful and important to the one who tells it and the one who listens to it. Billions of people with billions of stories. O, to be heard in that hive of words and declamations. O, to be heard, loved, connected, included, and involved. O, to be remembered and longed for, blessed and stimulated.









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