Mother's Scent
Mother’s
Scent
Take a teacup of a rose, raised to the sun and watch it unfold, this is the promise and hope of the mother. On one very special day each year, the mother honored with a special lift of cheer. A mother goes far beyond the birth of a child, a mother the nurturer born of desire. A mother, an aunt, a friend, an admirer all are honored this day for the desire to see the children they hold so dear, remembrance of the heart and years.
Starting at birth and without end, a mother’s love, past all life transcends. The whisper, the touch, you long too once again feel, becomes the song or brush of the cheek once again. A mother’s love always lives, the life of an energy who only knew how to give.
On this day, a mother’s heart takes many ways of feeling the joy, the loss, the pain, of being the child, the mother and graced. From the mother energy which is not with you now, or the tear on the cheek remembering a child beyond the clouds.
For they have not gone far away, remaining close to you in a circular praise of the love of the mother, tried and true, a connective energy that raises you. Parties, picnics, and gatherings of another day, special to the heart as you hesitate to allow such memories now to be a part of your way.
Today Mother Mary has gathered in truth, the mother energy she has given to you. Birthed of a teacup rose to spread through you, the universal love only mother energy can do. A mother stands close to her love of desire on this day, whether here or there, or thought to be far away. The children who have gone beyond touch of mother’s today, fill the heart and help her remember the way, as an infant so small and beautifully smooth, the touch once again, touches you.
Cherubs and saints gather in song, to anchor the energy of a mother’s love, to you they belong. For they have not passed beyond the hearts gate, today their love is only in wait. Cherubs holding teacups, elders in full bloom, the scent of the rose, the mother’s love for you. As you have read this, now hold your hands cupped to your face, smell the rose scent of a mother’s embrace.
Take a teacup of a rose, raised to the sun and watch it unfold, this is the promise and hope of the mother. On one very special day each year, the mother honored with a special lift of cheer. A mother goes far beyond the birth of a child, a mother the nurturer born of desire. A mother, an aunt, a friend, an admirer all are honored this day for the desire to see the children they hold so dear, remembrance of the heart and years.
Starting at birth and without end, a mother’s love, past all life transcends. The whisper, the touch, you long too once again feel, becomes the song or brush of the cheek once again. A mother’s love always lives, the life of an energy who only knew how to give.
On this day, a mother’s heart takes many ways of feeling the joy, the loss, the pain, of being the child, the mother and graced. From the mother energy which is not with you now, or the tear on the cheek remembering a child beyond the clouds.
For they have not gone far away, remaining close to you in a circular praise of the love of the mother, tried and true, a connective energy that raises you. Parties, picnics, and gatherings of another day, special to the heart as you hesitate to allow such memories now to be a part of your way.
Today Mother Mary has gathered in truth, the mother energy she has given to you. Birthed of a teacup rose to spread through you, the universal love only mother energy can do. A mother stands close to her love of desire on this day, whether here or there, or thought to be far away. The children who have gone beyond touch of mother’s today, fill the heart and help her remember the way, as an infant so small and beautifully smooth, the touch once again, touches you.
Cherubs and saints gather in song, to anchor the energy of a mother’s love, to you they belong. For they have not passed beyond the hearts gate, today their love is only in wait. Cherubs holding teacups, elders in full bloom, the scent of the rose, the mother’s love for you. As you have read this, now hold your hands cupped to your face, smell the rose scent of a mother’s embrace.
copyright@lsmyers
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