fescennine fervidity

I'm not 23 anymore. 

I have two children who are more important to me than anything else. I'm a single mom and some days I don't want to get out of bed, but I do. I take care of my children and I pour my love into them. Then I take care of my artwork and I pour my love into that. My children and my artwork depend on the flow of love and happiness from my heart, from my inner-most well of who I am. I don't have any right to play games with my heart. I anticipate the works of the Old Masters, may it move my spirit in awe and love. Their love that continues to be shared through the works of their hands, let this love fill the well in the inner xylem of my being that it may thrive and spread lush and beautiful works, green, verdant, alive, creations that continue the flow of love to others. Saturn, get out that oiled scourge and teach me your unforgettable lessons well that I never defy you with my weak, vain flesh again. Here I am, crying about loneliness, when it is my opportunity to grow and give nourishing fruit to others. So selfish and deceptive is the heart. Vain and selfish.