She aroused from the roundness of moon,
A kind of divine, a kind of beauty
Until the earth drew a path to bring her down,
As all waters of creation would spring from her
She would weave love with threads drawn from hearts,
Roots sunk deep in womb and hearts soaring to the sky

A spectacular tree of life, love, and sacredness,
She dances in lightness with a certain coyness
Stretching up to hide her face in the blueness,
Her energy rekindles as she feels the naturalness

Filled with the brilliance of spring, buds, and birds,
The earth looks far more superior to heavens
It is her loving presence that imagines and creates,
With open and outstretched wings she ascends

Love, beauty, divinity is embedded in women,
Each snowflake is a perfect crystal made in heaven
She is the beginning it is known without theory,
And without her, it would be not the same story

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I love you for recreating me into a better version.

— Harshada Pathare
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