They spoke of Destiny—
a sovereign queen of stars and silence,
threading our lives through unseen needles of time.
They said, none could escape her maps,
none could resist her decree.
She is the paradox the world fears to name—
poison in the hands of the cruel,
cure in the arms of the kind.

A whisper of destruction,
a hymn of creation,
a fire that purifies,
a river that forgives.

And when the world asks,
“Is she danger, or is she salvation?”

The answer echoes in every soul that has touched her light:
She is both—
for she was never meant to be one thing.
She is the storm and the shelter,
the question and the answer,
the wound and the healing.

Destiny may try to bind her,
but it is she who teaches the stars to shine.
And in her truth, eternal and unshaken,
we finally see:
She was the poison they feared…
and the cure they always sought.

But they did not see—
Faith is a force greater than her ink.
For when one believes without wavering,
the mountains learn to bow,
the rivers carve new routes,
and even the sky whispers back:
“What you seek—seeks you too.”

This is the secret of existence:
Destiny bends before conviction.
Every “no” turns to “not yet,”
every delay becomes design.
The universe aligns,
not because we command it,
but because we trust it.

And within this truth,
another light rises—
Woman.

Not a shadow of man,
not a half carved from ribs—
but Shakti herself.
A force unchained,
a miracle breathing.

She is the womb of beginnings,
and the flame of endings.
She is the lullaby that saves,
and the thunder that destroys.
Her silence holds storms,
her smile holds revolutions.

To the blind, she is poison—
for her strength burns illusions.
To the weary, she is cure—
for her love restores empires.
To the world, she is mystery—
to herself, she is everything.

And when the question rose:
“Who rules—Destiny, or Woman?”
the cosmos answered in stillness:

Destiny may weave the stars,
but Woman carries galaxies in her womb.
Destiny may command the tides,
but Woman is the ocean itself.
Destiny may write the script,
but Woman decides how the play is lived.

So believe—
for belief bends fate.
Respect—
for she is creation, continuation, completion.

Even Destiny bows—
to a soul that refuses to break,
and to Her,
the eternal superpower,
whom no silence can silence.