Mother and Child

By Shin

 

 

 

 

Born of her flesh in a scheme,

In which nature nurtured the child,

Nine months, of the beginning with mummy.

Not an egg that shields itself,

Or being born outside the womb,

To fend for itself, a fetus self-creative,

But a human child, devoted to its creator,

Grows to discover its place in the sun,

Of a creation as vast as the universe,

Plays, in order to catch it all,

Gamesman like to see itself at first,

Presumptious of its knowledge,

Adds to its understanding of activity,

But always, in the distance, close to touch,

The whence from which it came,

The old lady, now ambitious at Bingo,

Who receives from her boy the grace,

Of the life, magical and sometimes divine,

Who knows his heart and the matter with him,

And travels to far off places to inquire of him,

When he should hurt or be cavil of issues,

His mother, his angel at his side as guide,

Till the cow drops its calf early someday,

Then does the boy journey alone, separated

Almost, from the source of his own flesh,

To seek his own and then his mother's,

From the everlasting waters of creation.

A great tale and even greater way of life,

Of the earth and its bounteous beauty.

 

 

 

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[Marie]

We are born only to leave...