The Womb – Poems on Mother , Father , Children , Parenthood – Volume 2 by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

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10. IMMORTAL MOTHER

 

Not even the most indomitably peaking and handsomely compassionate of

mountains could ever dream of perennially protecting me; as much as,

 

Not even the most tantalizingly tangy and intrepidly fearless of oceans could ever dream of bountifully revitalizing me; as much as,

 

Not even the most celestially sacrosanct and pristinely blessed of cows could ever dream of holistically purifying me; as much as,

 

Not even the most vivaciously virgin and indispensably mollifying droplets of rain could ever dream of victoriously liberating me; as much as,

 

Not even the most optimistically brilliant and unceasingly divine of Sunlight could ever dream of insuperably inspiring me; as much as,

 

Not even the most resplendently tranquil and irrefutably altruistic of shadows could ever dream of endlessly pacifying me; as much as,

 

Not even the most ebulliently mystical and impeccably benign of moonlight could ever dream of timelessly consecrating me; as much as,

 

Not even the most fathomlessly majestic and unsurpassably unhindered of skies could ever dream of inexhaustibly freeing me; as much as,

 

Not even the most Omnipotently blessed and symbiotically fortified of milk could ever dream of perpetually nourishing me; as much as,

 

Not even the most inscrutably enthralling and vividly embellished of forests could ever dream of forever entrancing me; as much as,

 

Not even the most redolently inimitable and unassailably royal of lotus’s could ever dream of limitlessly befriending me; as much as,

 

Not even the most fantastically potent and everlastingly fructifying of seeds could ever dream of gloriously burgeoning me; as much as,

 

Not even the most supremely invincible and unprecedentedly vibrant of paradise could ever dream of unceasingly blessing me; as much as,

 

Not even the most eternally glorifying and serendipitously stupefying of rainbows could ever dream of insurmountably bewitching me; as much as,

 

Not even the most candidly scintillating and indefatigably honest of mirrors could ever dream of truthfully reflecting me; as much as,

 

Not even the most magically ameliorating and wonderfully crystalline of streams could ever dream of bounteously quenching my thirst; as much as,

 

Not even the most ingeniously original and boundlessly mitigating of fantasies could ever dream of miraculously alleviating me; as much as,

 

Not even the most unconquerably Omnipresent and ubiquitously ever-pervading

of messiahs; saints; lovers and heartthrobs could ever dream of harmoniously

rekindling me; as much as,

 

As much as my immortal mother is forever crazy about even the most infinitesimal aspect of my existence; as much as my mother protected me from even the most diminutive trace of the devil before I could emanate my very first breath; as much as my mother endlessly blesses me even in the most oblivious of her dreams; as much as my mother admires me more than what anything could have admired anything else on this fathomless Universe; as much as my mother forgives me more than what the Lord could have forgiven any organism alive on this aristocratic earth; as much as my Mother breathes my and solely my reflection in each of her breath; and in every of her lifetime.