No pen has sufficient ink
To dig into the mother;
No writer has enough brains
To attribute upon her the beauty
Of words,
No painter is able to sketch
The mother with his immature hand,
She is a silent power:
She is the brightest of the brights;
The strongest of the strengths ;
She is the softest of the softs;
The most beautiful of the beauties;
She is the bravest of the braves;
The mother is the life of the lives;
The stillness of the innate objects;
We are nothing without having her;
She is the kernel of ALL lives & things.