I resume being paused as my mind dissects the vernacular,
Is continuing to think, a symptom of strength?
I chuckle as I sit befuddled,
With a constant struggle between this or that...
Yes or maybe,
As a baby, knowledge of strength was passively instilled in me,
Watching my mother produce more out of nothing than I could out of something...
But my eyes remain fixed on power lifting,
Awkward body shifting,
As he lifts a ton, perfectly balancing the mass,
Which pushes me to ask,
Are my mother and the lifter somehow in relation?
If so this equation, or rather expression's direction is pointed away from my mother,
For she is greater than he...
He lifts, then pushes, then rests, i guess...
Since the first push of birth not only has my mother lifted,
But for 18 years she carried and balanced a household and 3 lives,
So no matter how hard you strive to convince me,
It's simply impossible to drown in a glass of water,
When my mother treads water in the pacific,
And because of her treading, I now have a boat,
And hope does float...
I guess Webster was just trying to save time...