The Woman is a portal between
the spiritual realm and the physical realm.
The Only Force in the Universe powerful enough
to navigate and incarnate.
the spiritual realm and the physical realm.
The Only Force in the Universe powerful enough
to navigate and incarnate.
The Highest Honor and the Highest Respect for All the Woman on this Earth
The Beauty of a Woman
The beauty of a woman Is not in the clothes she wears,
The figure that she carries, Or the way she combs her hair.
The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes,
Because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.
The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole,
But true beauty in a woman Is reflected in her soul.
It is the caring that she lovingly gives,
The passion that she shows,
And the beauty of a woman
With passing years only grows.
Author: Audrey Hepburn
The beauty of a woman Is not in the clothes she wears,
The figure that she carries, Or the way she combs her hair.
The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes,
Because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.
The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole,
But true beauty in a woman Is reflected in her soul.
It is the caring that she lovingly gives,
The passion that she shows,
And the beauty of a woman
With passing years only grows.
Author: Audrey Hepburn
The Beauty ...
If you teach her goodness, kindness and the beauty of life,
you teach an entire generation.
If you teach her goodness, kindness and the beauty of life,
you teach an entire generation.
The Beauty of Women
We owe our life to our women, and we owe them our death too.
We owe our life to our women, and we owe them our death too.
From Archer Love
There is no better way, to start each day, than to tell a woman that we love her.
Even if we’re feeling gray, all we want to do is pray, just tell a woman that you love her.
Our journey on earth, is from the womb to the tomb.
It was a she who gave birth, and we who consumed.
We may think she already knows, but don’t dare assume.
Don’t dare fear, surrender to the mirror, and let her hear. “I love you”.
It was the womb, man, that brought us onto this land. It was the woman, that gave us a plan.
And it was the woman, that first held our hand.
It was the woman that fed us from her very own gland.
And why do we think our women are pissed? Maybe it’s all the gratitude we have missed.
The honor we owe them that we have kissed...... goodbye.
When we, high as a kite, high on our spite,
took our identity as a guy without ever once asking why,
do we not feel we owe our women our life... every day and every night? We do.
We owe our life to our women, and we owe them our death too.
We have already fed, as babies we got our fix of milk from our mothers who cradled us in bed.
And as men we get in our head and we want more,
was having been given this life not enough to adore?
And we wonder why they are upset.
How much neglect did we think they could stand?
How could we call ourselves a man, yet walk away from our duty as a man, just because we can?
We complain about them being upset, but have we ever stopped and wondered why?
Because we owe our women our life, and instead we lie.
Maybe that’s why we refuse to cry.
Because we want to think we got here on our own.
Like some tough guy that was born alone.
There will never be enough gratitude we could have shown.
And it’s impossible to owe someone something we can not own,
without feeling our hands tied to their throne.
It will forever be to the woman, to the womb, to whom we owe this ride home.
We should be concerned with how to bring the abuse to a cessation. Instead, men, we’ve got a nation built on the wounded masculine’s need for overcompensation.
There was once a time where men served the Goddesses until the day they died,
their death and last breath.
Then men forgot, we were conceived in a woman’s third eye and fed from her breast.
Now there is nothing she needs that we can buy.
All she needs is our love and doesn’t care about the rest.
So there is no better way, to start each day, then to tell a woman you love her.
internationalwomensday
Even if we’re feeling gray, all we want to do is pray, just tell a woman that you love her.
Our journey on earth, is from the womb to the tomb.
It was a she who gave birth, and we who consumed.
We may think she already knows, but don’t dare assume.
Don’t dare fear, surrender to the mirror, and let her hear. “I love you”.
It was the womb, man, that brought us onto this land. It was the woman, that gave us a plan.
And it was the woman, that first held our hand.
It was the woman that fed us from her very own gland.
And why do we think our women are pissed? Maybe it’s all the gratitude we have missed.
The honor we owe them that we have kissed...... goodbye.
When we, high as a kite, high on our spite,
took our identity as a guy without ever once asking why,
do we not feel we owe our women our life... every day and every night? We do.
We owe our life to our women, and we owe them our death too.
We have already fed, as babies we got our fix of milk from our mothers who cradled us in bed.
And as men we get in our head and we want more,
was having been given this life not enough to adore?
And we wonder why they are upset.
How much neglect did we think they could stand?
How could we call ourselves a man, yet walk away from our duty as a man, just because we can?
We complain about them being upset, but have we ever stopped and wondered why?
Because we owe our women our life, and instead we lie.
Maybe that’s why we refuse to cry.
Because we want to think we got here on our own.
Like some tough guy that was born alone.
There will never be enough gratitude we could have shown.
And it’s impossible to owe someone something we can not own,
without feeling our hands tied to their throne.
It will forever be to the woman, to the womb, to whom we owe this ride home.
We should be concerned with how to bring the abuse to a cessation. Instead, men, we’ve got a nation built on the wounded masculine’s need for overcompensation.
There was once a time where men served the Goddesses until the day they died,
their death and last breath.
Then men forgot, we were conceived in a woman’s third eye and fed from her breast.
Now there is nothing she needs that we can buy.
All she needs is our love and doesn’t care about the rest.
So there is no better way, to start each day, then to tell a woman you love her.
internationalwomensday
The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole,
But true beauty in a woman Is reflected in her soul.
But true beauty in a woman Is reflected in her soul.
