The maiden stands in dawn’s first light,
Her gaze still full of wonder, bright.
A whisper carried on the breeze,
A tender start, so pure, at ease.
The mother, strong within her calm,
In her embrace, life grows and blooms.
She gifts the world its steady balm,
That all renews and is attuned.
The crone, so wise, so old and clear,
Her mind like oceans deep with truth,
Her gaze sees far, her soul sincere,
She knows: where things must end, they bloom.
