Through the ages, your essence remains,
A timeless thread in life’s vast chains.
The cradle of being, the heart of the earth,
A woman’s worth surpasses her birth.
"Mathru Devo Bhava," we humbly sing,
For in your presence, the divine takes wing.
You are the light, the home, the flame,
The soul of our story, our family’s name.
Dreams you forsake for others to rise,
Hiding your tears, your silent cries.
Yet within you burns a ceaseless fire,
A beacon of warmth, of hope, of desire.
Respect this flame, it will guide your way,
But scorn it, and chaos will hold sway.
For fire, once angered, consumes its foe,
Its strength unyielding, its power aglow.
Your stories are etched in scars unseen,
On hearts and minds, where silence leans.
Words unspoken, yet vivid and raw,
Tales of courage that humble and awe.
As Mother Mary, you give us life,
Enduring pain, transcending strife.
Yet as a goddess, fierce and wild,
You protect your own, both woman and child.
I yearn for a man, noble and strong,
Who honors the women who’ve helped him belong.
Whose mother, sister, wife, and child,
Are proud of his heart, both tender and wild.
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