In the rocky desert its always cold.
Barren of life and
Beauty, until she comes.
The brow upon her face is bold.
A scornful look, as she
murders the desolation.
From her body the signs of life unfold.
Her bosom the catalyst for
change, slaying the emptiness.
The story of her magnificence is told.
Her love for thee eternal, she
is the mother of us all.
Her gift to us more valuable than gold.
The black hole of death replaced
by a white dove of peace.