Being "nice" is not a quality you want in this environment...
Being nice and pretty is even worse.
When the wolves are at your cavern ready to feast on your young,
Nice and pretty, just won't cut it.
You have to have that fierce side of you.
The one ready to protect,
the one ready to fight for every breath you take,
and for that of those around you.
If food were not what took him away to hunt,
Who would be left?
The mother.
You.
Bearing down ready to push,
and there is new life, right there.
And the son has your same eyes.
Being nice in this moment will save him.
Cut off from words he is, and he sees very little in this world.
Only caring for his warmth,
and full tummy,
and a lack of agitation for survival.
He feels your heartbeat as he clings to your breast.
There is no bottle, only breast.
Nothing invented to harm this connection.
No drugs to calm blood sugar issues.
And it is you the mother, that keeps him alive.
Eyes wide, you have everything he needs.
Warmth, and a blanket of evolution separating you...never.
No tongue to speak, just yet.
And when he cries you sing.
And there is no label to his agitation...
for it is simply his cues.
And he doesn't ever realize that daddy is away hunting,
until he meets the man walking next to him 20 years later.
And he cries when he sees his nose, and chin, and in that wrinkled wink.
No surprise to this world son...it was I that you seek.
"But what peril were you in son?
It was just I across that lake!"
And so a son who walked on water...and took just one step in faith...
knew his father and mother,
and learned everything a man would make.
Being nice and pretty is even worse.
When the wolves are at your cavern ready to feast on your young,
Nice and pretty, just won't cut it.
You have to have that fierce side of you.
The one ready to protect,
the one ready to fight for every breath you take,
and for that of those around you.
If food were not what took him away to hunt,
Who would be left?
The mother.
You.
Bearing down ready to push,
and there is new life, right there.
And the son has your same eyes.
Being nice in this moment will save him.
Cut off from words he is, and he sees very little in this world.
Only caring for his warmth,
and full tummy,
and a lack of agitation for survival.
He feels your heartbeat as he clings to your breast.
There is no bottle, only breast.
Nothing invented to harm this connection.
No drugs to calm blood sugar issues.
And it is you the mother, that keeps him alive.
Eyes wide, you have everything he needs.
Warmth, and a blanket of evolution separating you...never.
No tongue to speak, just yet.
And when he cries you sing.
And there is no label to his agitation...
for it is simply his cues.
And he doesn't ever realize that daddy is away hunting,
until he meets the man walking next to him 20 years later.
And he cries when he sees his nose, and chin, and in that wrinkled wink.
No surprise to this world son...it was I that you seek.
"But what peril were you in son?
It was just I across that lake!"
And so a son who walked on water...and took just one step in faith...
knew his father and mother,
and learned everything a man would make.