Mothers of the Flow

We can see all sentient beings as our own mother, or sister or brother, we all are related one with the other through the years, so we are a whole great family.

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I see your face in the morning light,
A kindness there, soft and bright.
And though we walk on different shores,
I’ve known your hands, they’ve shaped before.
My mother’s mother’s mother’s grace,
Lingers here in time and space.
And yours as well, though lost in name,
A thread within the same old frame.
Every heart, every hand,
A touch passed down like shifting sand.
We are mothers of the flow,
Roots entwined in all we know.
Through the years, through the tide,
Love remains, it won’t divide.
The ones I pass along the street,
The eyes of strangers, warm or bleak,
Carry traces, faint but true,
A thousand mothers shining through.
Every heart, every hand,
A touch passed down like shifting sand.
We are mothers of the flow,
Roots entwined in all we know.
Through the years, through the tide,
Love remains, it won’t divide.
Not by blood, not by name,
Still, we share this endless flame.
In the weave of life’s embrace,
Every soul’s a mother’s trace.
So when we meet, don’t you know,
You are me, and I am you in the flow.