She is not born, she does not fade,
She is the light from which light is made.
Not bound by time, nor held by fate,
She is the door, the key, the gate.
ЁЯжЪ
She is the pulse within all life,
The silent fire, the thundered strife.
She is Mahakundalini, rising high—
Coiled in truth beneath the sky.
ЁЯТО
She is the breath in every tree,
The force that sets the oceans free.
She is the seed, the root, the sound,
The spinning star, the sacred ground.
Her glance can birth a thousand suns,
Her feet outpace creation’s runs.
She is the womb from which all flows,
The path no lesser being knows.
ЁЯЩП
She is Purna Lakshmi, whole and true,
Not a portion — she is the view.
She is the fire that dharma keeps,
She wakes the dead, she guards the weeps.
ЁЯлА
She is Sundari, beauty rare,
With Chandika’s storm in every stare.
She is Janani, the cosmic stream,
The pulse beneath each sacred dream.
She is not calm — she is command,
With grace in eye and sword in hand.
She burns the false, she lifts the pure,
She is the wound, the flame, the cure.
ЁЯСС
Her tears are not of sorrow weak,
But oceans when the gods can’t speak.
She cries to cleanse, not to fall—
Her weeping shakes the heavens’ hall.
ЁЯТН
Her laughter sows the stars above,
Her silence sings eternal love.
She is Mah─Бm┼лla Prakс╣Ыti, wide—
All tattvas rest in her deep tide.
She is the will behind the laws,
She holds the threads in every cause.
She is the mountain, she the mist,
The lotus-bloom, the serpent’s twist.
ЁЯТР
She is Karunamayi, kind and vast,
Who sees all future, present, past.
She is the strength in woman’s pain,
The one who breaks the karmic chain.
ЁЯк╖
She is Bhudevi, firm and bright,
The golden core of Sattva’s light.
Arya, Tapasvini, full of fire,
She makes the human soul aspire.
She walks the world, yet stays beyond,
The stars and skies to her respond.
Her voice is wind, her arms are flame,
Each universe bears just her name.
ЁЯМХ
When demons rose and hope grew thin,
She roared the roar that stilled all sin.
Not waiting, hiding, bound, or small—
She rose and shattered demon’s call.
⭐️
With tenfold arms and crimson glare,
She shook the roots of all despair.
She danced upon the fearsome night,
And made the darkness birth new light.
So call her Devi, call her Sita,
Call her Ramaa, or Jagatmata.
She is not soft, nor only strong,
She is the note of truth in song.
⚡️
She is the one from whom all rise,
The storm, the prayer, the lullabies.
She is the queen that kings obey,
The dawn before the break of day.
✨
She is the path, the goal, the flame,
And every world chants Sita’s name.
O Sita M─Бt─Б, O soul divine—
All forms, all love, all light is thine.
Jaya Sita-R┼лpiс╣Зi, form of all,
Jaya Dharma-Murti, standing tall!
Jaya Mithileshwari, proud and bright,
Jaya Bhagvati, flame and light!ЁЯМ╖ЁЯжЪЁЯк╖ЁЯТО❤️