(no subject)

There are those
whose being is possession.
There are those whose essence
is giving.

Pieta

My beloved, my chosen, my son!
I carried you beneath my heart,
flesh of my flesh.
and you are dead, silent,
my beloved son.

Again I bear you in pain.
Again I give birth in tears,
not now an entrance into life.
See, I bear you to the grave.
( Pieta )