Mama

Perhaps my words sound strange to others, but to you they will not. You are young, my hero, little cub, fierce & strong & wise but young, yes? My journey is not yours I will not let that be but every strength I've known I've given to thee. Changling prince, see The mother knows. Now, don't frown at me. We ran, we flew the ways and the ley and the grasses grew and the waters flowed and we flowered centred in that distance that circumferenced that journey I had made- and others before me- and circled sought to keep you safe. Like nature nurtured you grew and sometimes that circle snared us and you knew what you should not then those strengths I had given you were your own and such strength was you! Wise boy, you listened well and I will always guard you with my life my love you are young and hidden as I wait and watch and snarl. This is a bitter fate and not made by us but shaped by who we are defiant and proud to sing and dance and love oh aye, we struggle We struggle on and ache a bit sometimes and maybe need a nap to dream on and fight on in spirit to fold the boundaries of existence together, as one, in parting each part a porta. And, here, we know a different journey is meant to be for us and will be once... this battle is done and what was woven is cut. Then, no weapons on the table, but more sustenance more song more laughter ever love. (pass the steak knife, sweets)