I would like to keep telling the human story from the lens of the mother, from natures eyes. I would like to scoop down past the flower's petals to that place inside where the nectar flows, where it finds its confluence with the marrow of the bones and the blood of the veins. I would like to speak for that rawness, of the feelings resting so deep in the hearts of all of us. Those whispered or even muted in our silent desperation and longing, those shouted in our anguish and wailings, those pouring out tidal surges of love in our fits of joy. I wish to find that sweet nowhere where the mountain so old is indistinguishable from the calloused hand, where the curling wave finds no refuge from the sweeping tears. Let me search for myself, unsuccessful in my searching, for I find only the peaceful, ancient yearnings of creations own one love expressed in silent, howling, eternal absolution.