Consanguinity has shown its most beautiful face
In yours, Mother, that is the only face of God
That I have seen and believed in.
However dark the night may be
In your bower there is always light.
Over me, always, was the better blanket;
The unburnt bread always on my plate.
Weird were your ways of saying how
Unconditional your care is;
Your love unquantifiable.
But wounds are destined to efface;
After the last scar smiles;
The way back always ends
In your assuasive embrace;
No matter how long it takes,
To you I shall return, just like how
The evening bird
After a day's carefree wandering
Finally realizes how dark it is getting,
And flies back home.
In yours, Mother, that is the only face of God
That I have seen and believed in.
However dark the night may be
In your bower there is always light.
Over me, always, was the better blanket;
The unburnt bread always on my plate.
Weird were your ways of saying how
Unconditional your care is;
Your love unquantifiable.
But wounds are destined to efface;
After the last scar smiles;
The way back always ends
In your assuasive embrace;
No matter how long it takes,
To you I shall return, just like how
The evening bird
After a day's carefree wandering
Finally realizes how dark it is getting,
And flies back home.
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