The Mother

It is Her the Universe imitated at the rise of creation

It is Her that preachers dream of when they dream of angels

It is Her song that wakes the morning sun from its slumber

It is Her name that's engraved in the Bible as the Promised Land

It is She that shakes the rivers when they dare not stream with passion

She is the rose in a sunken battlefield

She is the bright birch in an ancient beech forest

She is the fine China in a crystal cabinet

The sacrificed sheep in a carefully knitted sweater

It is under Her wings that lovers seek cover when it's raining

It is Her justice and judgment that's used at the gates of Heaven

It is She that stirs the Milky Way in Her cosmic pot

It is She that fills the oceans with her tears

It is She that fills the heavens with her laugh

She is my God, my angel and savior

She is my beginning, my tale and my end

My first breath and my final death

She is

My Mother

Oh, How blessed am I

To be a part of Her being!