An Essay A Day For A Year
By Roe
Day 44, February 13, 2012
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Whenever I imagine brave men kissing their women goodbye as they set off in search for the holy grail I laugh to myself. But she does not laugh to herself. No woman laughs when her man rides off in search of anything, let alone the holy grail. She knows very well that her womb is the holy grail. Her womb births angels and devils. Her womb births the priests and priestesses that worship Gods, and eventually the idea of birthing the son of God. Her womb is everything, and he does not just love her, her needs her.
No woman likes to know that as Primary in every way, she is treated as secondary in every way. Only God and the Devil can help or deal with a man that does not see Her as the One, for she will make him see and pay and know one way or another. Before the sun has set she fills her grail with his worst nightmares, just out of vengeance to his disrespect and lack of recognition of her value. He will covet any used gold or diamond holy grail that he may encounter, but not his used grail in her body. Only she has the power. Only she has ever had the power. At the end of the chicken and the egg debate of importance, she walks off with his coveted body, misused as a weapon to his undoing, and with his son and daughter in tow. Beware of the queen of the universe when her body is turned out into the night or day as a weapon against he who needs her for his very existence. If this be her only power, this is the power that fuels the very universe.
A woman’s body is the center of the universe, and the center of all known universes. When men kiss their women goodbye in search of their fortunes, they dream of the adventure of rape, pillage and plunder. Rape comes first in any chaos or war or adventure, and pillage and plunder pale by comparison to the loneliness and vengeance of a man without Her. She has known this since the beginning of time. “I am everything, for I hold what he must have”. When she loves she has everything to give. When she retaliates, she has everything to destroy and take away. When she suffers, she has everything to lose. Long ago women self divided like a one celled creature that becomes two. A woman knows in her deep psyche after millions of years that She as person, and She as Goddess and progenitor, must be separated. A woman as self can choose when to align her body with her heart, and when both may be offered and given. A woman, and all women, know when her body as defense, her body as weapon, her body as decoy, her body as bait, her body as proxy, must be used and sacrificed.
When a woman defends her heart with her body, she revels in herself as slut and whore. When a woman proxies her womb as promiscuous, she rebels and hates, and defiles joyously at her demise at he that covets and threatens and has wounded her. She can and will rise from the destruction of her holy grail to love like a virgin child, with one breath, once he has suffered, or once her goal has been met. She is not slut or whore. There has not been one slut or whore in the history of the world. Slut is an action of her body, and whore is an action of her body, and when she turns her body out as weapon, her body is verb. She chooses action, while her self as noun peeks out from behind the curtain, waiting, testing, and getting results.
The world of love has no comparison to a woman who loves with heart, and chooses to give her body to only one man, and forever. The world has not seen the wrath of love that is rebellious and punitive should she be wounded, or as the expression says, scorned. What a man desires and covets the most will be bestowed upon him to approximate the bliss which he felt within his own mother’s body if he is true to her and her need to give her egg to only him with love. If he does not stay true to her gift and trust in him as the only one and forever, what a man desires and covets most will be taken and degraded by her and within her until his very heart and need for life is crushed. Since he as heart and mind and body are one and not divided like she, he succumbs, and is broken. All he has left are ineffective muscles and violence, and the world at large will pay. Despite her loss of proxy body martyr, she lives and moves on in search of the next hope for her love and her eggs. She remains protected behind her divided and weaponized body, and she remains in hope of the love of her self and body as united one to be given to another.
The man who stayed home to adore and protect his holy grail and his children with her experienced love, and the children shared love, and the love survived, and her grail remained his and pure. The men in search of the holy grail out there raped and murdered many foreign holy grails and their children, and died in vain while his own holy grail back home shared herself with anyone at all that would wound him. She was not slut or whore or promiscuous in any way, for nature had taught her to survive for hundreds of millions of years. And despite her loss and sadness and her own martyrdom, and despite her gain at perhaps saving her children, she enjoys her wrath nonetheless. “I am everything, and I hold what he must have”. And if he will have it not, he will pay, and she will win. She has the power.
All wars have been started and ended and won and lost by and over women. Women have the power. If it is not directly the result of Joan or Cleopatra or Juliet, it is as a result of being a mother’s son. No man has any power whatsoever when She is the progenitor and caregiver of his children. How he treats her is how the children are treated, and how they will treat their men lovers or haters and women lovers and haters in the future. She as lover with heart and body together are the models to children and the future, and how she loves as heart and body together depends on how he loves her as holy grail.
“So men”, my best friend asks us, “who will go with me on this expedition to find the holy grail (or a hundred other men’s adventures)?” Me, I’ll stay home with my beauty and never fail to prove the devotion that her grail and loving heart-body promise deserve. Of course as a male I can’t help but look across the street at my best friend’s house where his beauty is all alone and steaming hurt, let down again on the sidelines. My poor best friend. But that is not what his queen of the universe is thinking.
Let’s honor her boys. We’re living with the holy grail.
See you tomorrow.
yourpersonalmuse@gmx.com
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