She sees herself as a juggler

 She's up on that Gondola passing toward the countryside
her son is on the ground out of reach
she calls down and the boy is doing his best to keep up
Over the fields and into the local village square

He begs her to get down from there and take him with her
But she leaves him down there chasing
That's what she thinks is best for him
To become a mindless chaser

And see if it doesn't work
The anxious little monster will chase
and land himself in every form of humiliation
Watch him rise to the challenge watch him fall

She's up in the gondola trying to soften the horizon
with her delicate and persuasive sentiment
But there's no male energy in the horizon
It is one ample broad projection of the feminine

One that no woman can compete with
So her little son crawling up rocky unforgiving peaks
Just to keep sight of her, he doesn't understand the horizon
he just understands her and the absense of her

She sees herself as a juggler
thinking Destiny her bestie
As her son runs out of energy
and loses sight

reaching out his small hands
begging to be with her just one more time
But it's gone and with it his mother
So tomorrow he will follow the support posts

Just praying she will be waiting at the end of the line
But she will not be there at all
She will be moving toward her next fix
Of syrupy oversweetened validation