Innocent souls, fresh from His mould
But love wells up in the mother
Only for the child, which is her own
Ownership comes first, and then follows love
What about those, with none to call their own
Father is one, whom we all claim to own
But there are some men and women
Who love these children more than their own
His heart wells up and teary eyed
He blesses such noble souls
For they love with the love
Which is selfless, yet truly owned
The source is one, the fountainhead of love
It flows freely, yet we partake not of this love
Walls we build, and accumulate filth
If we love not His children, Him we can't love!
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