The thought that always bother, how shall I describe a mother?
Many have failed many have tried, feelings are more but words have dried.
Than sprung a sudden thought, “Lets steal a pen from God’s ink pot!”.
His pen has written scriptures and books, which enlightens us and gives an outlook.
The pen was like a wand in my hand, I described her as far as I can;
“In her lap the world feels no fear, the calmest place you find is here”.
In my hand with sword of courage, I scribbled hard all over the page.
Love, compassion,caring many words I tried, but still my heart was not satisfied.
Suddenly the pen stopped! No words, no thought, I failed! I failed! I cried! I cried a lot.
“Oh Lord! I confess I stole a pen, but be compassionate for I’m among your men”.
“Tell me Oh Lord what went wrong, did I write too far too long?”
He (the Lord) took out an ink pot from his heart, said “This! will describe her every part.”
I dipped the pen and feelings appeared, but as I described the words disappeared
I shook the pen and the ink fell down, there appeared lady draped in blue & green gown
He created me the earth, then, were the sea, the mountains, & creatures given birth.
My son, between him and her there is parity. She! (the Mother) is his contemporary.
She has the power of creation and compassion, the same you find in his bastion.
The mother is nothing but his reflection, a tribute of his endless beginning he gave to his creation.
By: Rounak Karmarkar