We have to dream up a Heavenly Father
An ocean of compassion infinite, infinitely indulgent
All too eager to hug and kiss wayward sons returning home
And celebrate their homecoming with festivities extravagant
In a gesture impossibly benevolent, love-lit He murmurs;
‘My children had fallen into perilous pits accurst
Riding on the wings of puffed-up vanity, deluded they were leaping
heavenward'
The Heavenly Father fondly whispers, choked with sobs
‘Beloved sons, flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood
Whom I made in my image in a moment passionate
At last you have returned home, poor darlings woebegone
Rejoice in my Heavenly abode, let us collectively confront the malignant'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is a beautiful poem on life having nice penmanship. Thanks for sharing.