She is the queen of the tempests.
For she may be ruthlessly struck by the thunder bolts,
Slapped mercilessly by the freezing wind,
And yet she sails with perfection,
Her head held high with pride
Irrespective of her broken deck, falling masts and withered sails.
She has the magnificence of the mighty mountains
Unmoved by the ceaseless rain,
And freezing snow.
Fragile they may call her
But it is futile to question her strength
For she has fought countless battles on her own.
She is the epitome of unconditional love
Giving every bit in her possession
Yet expecting nothing in return
Except the safety, happiness and goodwill of her blood.
She may be breaking down from within
But would never show,
For she lives not for herself
But to watch her little angels grow.
She selflessly toils in the field of her child’s life,
Watering them to life,
With her sweat and blood,
And calls her existence worthwhile
Only when the harvest is the person of her dreams she brought up.
She stands on the apex of mankind
Created with utmost care and precision
By the sovereign hands of God.
The unmatched creation,
The other name for beauty, strength and splendor