disputing the best
of pyramids, Egyptian silk, European cloth. so great with guidance. so deep in
mirages, portraits, and pictographs. so many signals, such warmth during
winters, so much a watchword—seen in “Mother.” to be as much as life gives,
arranged to come to solace, in tummy, in lap, at a side bench. Mommy is a
passport to compassion, a faraway island, brought close in a smile. mommy is
Tibetan Zen, The Mystic Church, or Protestant Christianity. mommy is rising
energy—fabric and glue, making a family as distinct as modesty, royalty,
privilege and pride. mommy is pleasured to see happiness, to carry her violin,
as sounding it alone, with a select few. in awe of her majesty, much a majestic
soul, loving art, worshiping convictions, sad at times, love is quite
overwhelming. to see her moving, chancing, her essence in skies—as it
sprinkles, an ideographic codification, a woman no man can quite equal.
