Irin, a mother of the helpless child

A mother behind the deep sea and the ocean Walking past in the silent world, She knows her work in motion and hurdles Never hesitating through the rains and the clouds In moving behind the shadow and perils of earth. She remains happy by her unusual courage; To speak the truth in capsize haze To switch the darkened cloud of the storm. She walks past all along in the glowing streams Underneath the big shades of the banyan tree As if the mother of all the child In the earth and the beams of light What she sees and explores in front of her She is moving in her way to have bliss Upon the supplication she always does. She becomes remorse and dilapidated when She hears the destitute of a motherless baby Her sorrows knows no bounds as if her heart always renders to restore the life of the child. She is second to none to roll her tears When sadness, pains and death stirs her. Like the crying voice of a helpless child Telling of goodness to bliss her fortitude.