Waves crashing on the shore,
Lightning lumintating the midnight sky,
The moon light caressing the Earth with its light,
Prowling Tigers, their paws marking their path,
The cuddly velvet nose of the
Slick smooth flesh of the
hooded Cobra,
Without a Celestial Creator,
these wouldn't be,
Just like a child without their
mother, lost,
A male untalented in the act of birth,
Kept at a distance from the
act, the pain,
Only a womens womb could give
The womb that created the
stars, the forest,
The womb that gave birth to
the beasts, the birds,
Who gave life to human kind,
who guides us,
Without our Celestial Mother,
Or birth mother, who
went through nine months of growth,
Nutruting, caring,
protecting sefllessly her child inside her,
Without that,
exictance would not excist,
Thank you all, mother of my birth, mother of the sky,
For the love you give, for the
pain that's tires you,
In your crone years my
respect, my love I'll show,
For when you are tired, hungry
I'll be there,
I am here to bring you the
silken pillow,
I am here to make you the
finest meals,
Because when you become a
Wise old crone you'll be,
I'll take your place as the
maiden, as the mother.