Quintessence

The purest form of human love Tends to become like divine love; Yet, cannot match the one above Nor the Holy Spirit, the Dove! Wisdom of man likewise falls short, And cannot be like heaven’s sort; Most holy saint on earth is less As angels tend to be matchless. The pure of heart reach God’s abode; God detests all sins by His code; The soul is dressed in garb of grace To face the Maker’s holy face. The aim of birth is to see God, The Master of creation, Lord. We ought to live as per His Word, And be like children or a bird.