Love has never been about the genes,
But about beauty, and unforgiving grace.
The wolf that suckled Romulus and Remus
Had nothing in her heart but wrenching joy.
Oh, yes, of course, love also is a means,
Serving the survival of the race.
But more, it is a longing that redeems us,
An end itself no ending can destroy.
And so it is with mothers who love children
Not of their flesh, but of their nurturing.
The origin fades, the years of love remain
Vivid in the background of a life.
For Rome, the wolf will always be its kindred,
Ancestor who took fate’s offering
And made it hers through sacrifice and pain,
The legacy that would her long days light.