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Narrow shoulders, resilient spine, she’s the innermost experience in our lives, as well as the giver of life. Holding on to gravity in her arms, keep life surprisingly calm, offering the right amount flavor so we can savor the moments in our unforeseen, motherless nights, meticulously passing-down her manners as a family heirloom to those who will soon wear her well, in her mother’s succeeding generations. If I could hide her wisdom from the rest of the world, I would seal it in a sea shell, so it would sit graciously, in the mutual company, inside of the beautiful luster of the, Cultured Mother Pearl. Sisters and brothers become divided nations in an endless conflict for this one woman’s undivided attention and only she has the finesse to end all the idle spitefulness with her oh so subtle, even-handedness.
A mother’s mane, floods the world with the senses of trustworthiness and at times you will find, her little ones running their curious fingers through her vigorous curls, trying to comprehend this beautiful concept's, flawless femine potencies, as in hopes of probing their territory deep in her heart and in her day-to-day thoughts. Yes, she is strength by design as it is contained for the proper time, it is accumulating inside her Lord and Savior’s favored, golden alabaster box, and is most willing, to spiral out and hover over.
She is surreal and yet so real, God’s finest, and an image of his nature, she is a never-ending continuation. She is surreal, yes, she is, soo real.
