The objects in this life changing
form to continue living this life in innumerable, time immemorial, grandiose.
So against all things that change form, or are forced to, those that refuse to
evolve, find not a single strand of change, we hail and remain in awe of its
ability to survive even the fittest.
The woman, the female of the human
species, has only undergone few shifts, giving over cultures from matrilineal
to matrilineal, upgrading their social status to equal those patriarchs in the
latter portion of human existence but never a physical or genetic shape shift.
The breast, the confidence, the pride, the illicit and nurturing spearhead of
the woman can be said to be the representation of woman in all regards; from
infancy, men suckle the breast of their mother to gain nourishment to grow, men
in intimacy suckle the breast to assuage their own desires and light a flame to
her erogenous zone, the double mastectomy necessary to spare a woman’s life
when under the plague of irregular and rogue cell production have been said to
lead to a woman’s melancholia, feeling that part of their very femininity has
been forfeited. And as the world races for arms, kills itself with arms and
ends their own lives at the barrel-end of the same arms used to take away the
life of the next unfortunate, humanity remains because the woman remains,
abundant, at the ready and willing to entertain the faltering male patriarch she’s
forever in wonder as to why any culture would have been left in their coarse
and incapable hands.
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