Mother & The Artist. Poem by Nikhil Parekh

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every unfurling instant
of iridescently inscrutable existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every unfurling instant
of invincibly coalescing existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling instant
of robustly blessed existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of unbreakably Omnipotent desire; every unfurling instant of victoriously effulgent existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of unceasingly reinvigorating fantasy; every unfurling minute of oignantly charismatic existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of insurmountably intrepid enchantment; every unfurling minute of rhapsodically unhindered existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of Omnisciently tranquil serenity; every unfurling instant of endlessly bestowing existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of perpetually fragrant breath; every unfurling instant
of Omnipresently benevolent existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of Immortally ardent love; every unfurling instant of limitlessly fructifying existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of fantastically alleviating poetry; every unfurling instant
of boundlessly splendid existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fabulously effervescent tanginess; every unfurling instant of spiritually uplifting existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of unlimitedly enlightening Sunshine; every unfurling instant of infallibly luminescent existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of immaculately godly melody; every unfurling instant of amiably melanging existence,

Because. And Only Because. A Mother is; has and shall for times immemorial
remain the Greatest Sculptor of every organism on this astoundingly multiplying Universe; A Mother is the Greatest Artist.