The divine touch

Freed her,

Rewrote the tale of old.

She emerged,

By the grace of the righteous incarnate man.

She was stone, she was silent,

Bound beneath the weight of a curse,

Veiled in soot,

Yet within, a hidden truth glowed.

She was a prayer of an era,

Woven with virtue and patience,

A vestige of a life long past.

But the turning wheel of time whispered change,

And truth was reforged in fate’s crucible.

Touched by Rama’s divine presence,

The stone blossomed, awakening to life.

A mellifluous sound danced on the whispering wind,

And cherished dreams,

Long held captive,

At last found their release.