Motherhood is the desire to end loneliness.
For a mother will always have her soul wandering the earth, wherever she may go, and the loneliness of the world is taken away with the seed of possibility and extension into this time and beyond, and before.
She can go forth knowing she has truly given, and received, and taken, and cannot be lonely, for the fruit of the womb nestles in her loins and in the memory of her loins, forever.
A mother has a gift that is always hers.
This is why, to lose a child, can leave such wanton loneliness that real life is irretrievable.
A feeling of losing eternity, a memory that aches in the umbilical cords… and pulls and slices, and opens the gash that was loneliness mended… tearing apart the stitching of the fabric of life, ripping away from a mother the loving, meticulous design given exclusively to her.
A lover is without a heart, a mother is without a piece of her soul.
Loss takes away her independence, and her faith, in an eternal that extends outwards, and over, and above…
it reminds her of the loneliness she knew before the joy of extension.
And life is doomed to forever melancholy and deep, infinite sadness.
Covering holes with holes.
Solve, dissolve, resolve.