The unbroken light – A tribute to womanhood

In the beginning, a voice no, a pulse,
before light was light, before gods sculpted form from void.
And she was there, unnamed, unseen,
the first breath that stirred the sea,
the dark energy between the stars.

Yashodha, holding a child whose mouth contained the cosmos,
Radha, aching in devotion, a longing older than time.
Sita, stepping into fire, proving what the world would never believe.
Mary, bearing love and sorrow alike,
Fatima, her hands weathered with justice,
Ayesha, speaking wisdom that echoed beyond veils,
Khadija, a woman who built realms with the weight of her will.

And now, in the twenty-first century,
she walks among us—many faces, many forms.
She is the scientist who dissects the nature of time,
the judge whose gavel bends destiny,
the artist who paints rebellion in shades of dawn.

She is the daughter, unafraid to inherit the fire,
the mother, whose arms hold the weight of nations,
the student, seeking equations between fate and freedom,
the leader, sculpting the world with the force of her voice.

Still, the battle is old,
like the Olympians waging war on the Titans.
Still, they tell her to be less,
to shrink between expectation and silence,
to prove, endlessly, what she already is.

But she is not made of fear.
She is made of dark matter, unseen but shaping the universe,
she is the photon slipping through the double slit,
both wave and particle, beyond their grasp, beyond their rules.

She is Athena, weaving wisdom into the fabric of laws.
She is Artemis, running untamed beneath a blood-red moon.
She is Persephone, returning from the underworld,
not broken, but crowned.

She will not vanish.
She is the pulse, the light, the force,
the unbroken, the eternal,
the woman the universe itself.