Nothing but grace

May I tell you that I like you. Even if you yourself can not confess to the name that gave you your mother. Is he really the greatest blessing one has as a gift to their lives. In us is a farewell, we all fall. But when us looked at an eye, so tender, so ecstatically that is prayer, nothing but the Great Mother, her soul. I myself want to be everything must be human. It seems to me as if I smell your skin, your eyes me seeing allowed. Nothing but grace.