On a Higher Grace

Those who are entrenched with grace know not a boundary to greatness

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Beyond Her; For them

She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleam’d upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment’s ornament;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature’s daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveler between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly plann’d,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.

by William Wordsworth

A woman is a pillar beyond its strength. Standing ovation is an understatement. I try to imagine of the super woman that King Lemuel tells his son about, and understand that women are not forbidden nor are their efforts casual or routine. They are oracles of adornment. Before birth, they hold a being, yet they know not about what kind they are so much in tender care about. Words stand indescribable to their charisma and zest. If one would stand to thank their living, they should attribute it to them that held them in their years of no knowledge, no instinct in the pervious mind.
I have this super woman I call mommy. I had a very puny and ill childhood. I was short; and if short means a height that the fields can compete favorably with and outdo it, them dwarfism is a synonym to befit. So she would carry me uphill all morning, amid the falling chilly and humid weather. For as it could be, mommy would sweat but letting the droplets fall to the thirsty earth’s crust was involuntary. And that routine recapitulate hours later, downhill. Five years is a period seemingly minute at a spot. But that turns decades when it is that my mom carried me upon her back, with my increasing weight each day, for up to five years. She could not tear or tire. She held me till my legs could formidably relieve her the huge weight.
It’s a quarter of a century past, and whenever I may fall ill, mommy falls ill too, and grieves with me. Now when such compassion of a woman conquers fear, defeat, weariness and stands immovable, the world finds peace and presence. It is in women that human race is born and thrives. Come to think of this instinct that remains untampered and immovable for as long as its holder lives, and passionately hold it within. No woman is great as a woman who stands strong for her world.
A woman goes out of her way, her comfort and peace and holds unto the peace of her people, her world. Our world is incomplete without women. Let us take every day as a day to supplement and repay, as small as it would be, to show love and be as empathetic and kind-hearted as we can.

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