Perspective: Working For Pay

Will my drive be my own or my daughters. I did not know you could keep crying when eyes are so dried out. Pouring and pulling the life within to somewhere a home may be. Gravity is my saving mechanism. Somehow the darkness pulls out the stuff seemed so difficult to transmute. And sometimes I feel like a slave. Cleaning and paying attention for good service day and night. And sometimes my saving grace is of service to me. My God. Is always there for me when I call upon. But somehow the greatest name. A master rank. But excellent in service and always on call. And sometimes, I feel like a beggar. When pulling in the light from heaven. At the will of the grand on high. And hopeful to be worthy of my greater selve’s attention. And day and night I have drive to be what is required. And it looks like being a busy mom, single and maybe depressed and somehow successful we think. And somehow I feel like drive is a thing that keeps me living. And my mom for me. And so I wonder, want to find me. In this timeline on track to be. Elected on rank to meet my Goddess. I want to know, will my drive be my own or my daughters. I have sons. Right now I only have sons. And I don’t understand what it takes to be a man. And terrified of what that looks like, to take a thing to become something perceived lesser. A thing of being a constant giver, pouring into the negative. I wonder how a living thing can last. I just want to rest and let my dry eyes cry a while. And sulk in the soil so my seed can spring up more of myself. In the proper season. I’m not sure the science of a man. And I’m sad hoping to ensure my sons find out how in a safe way. Without offense. Or humiliation. Thankfully, we all have strong will.