A Mothers Mourning ~

The life you are living now, all the hardships and trials; is just a testimony raising up to be told.

Strange that the self’s continuum should outlast

The Virgin, Aphrodite, and the Mourning Mother,

All loves and griefs, successive deities

That hold their kingdom in the human breast.

Abandoned by the gods, woman with an ageing body

That half remembers the


The passion and the travail and the grief That wore the mask of my humanity,

I marvel at the soul’s indifference.

For in her theatre the play is done,

The tears are shed; the actors, the immortals

In their ceaseless manifestation, elsewhere gone,

And I who have been Virgin and Aphrodite,

The mourning Is

and the queen of corn

Wait for the last mummer, dread


To dance my dust at last into the tomb.



Life is like a bunch of roses. Some sparkle like raindrops. Some fade when there's no sun. Some just fade away in time. Some dance in many colors. Some drop with hanging wings. Some make you fall in love. The beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Life you can be sure of, you will not get out ALIVE.(sorry about that)

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