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The Mother
A flower and a bee, loving each other
Blooming is my nature, uttered softly -
The bee spread her wings, kisses her petals
Raindrops are there, even a little light.
Wandering mother flies her thoughts
heaven is in joy, the birds chirping
the flower blooming, the wind blowing
everlasting process since inception!
The architect smiles and turns his chair -
Picking up a stick, he shows the door
a set of mothers are entering in paradise
to meet the Mother, with no shape no form
no beauty - only peace & love & hue
The den of Mothers, the den of singular mother
Whom we call the Mother earth!
The subtle Mother earth.
© mystiic
Blooming is my nature, uttered softly -
The bee spread her wings, kisses her petals
Raindrops are there, even a little light.
Wandering mother flies her thoughts
heaven is in joy, the birds chirping
the flower blooming, the wind blowing
everlasting process since inception!
The architect smiles and turns his chair -
Picking up a stick, he shows the door
a set of mothers are entering in paradise
to meet the Mother, with no shape no form
no beauty - only peace & love & hue
The den of Mothers, the den of singular mother
Whom we call the Mother earth!
The subtle Mother earth.
© mystiic
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