The Human soul, every person's essence, the spirit to bind,
God's own reflection, of his dedication, maker of all mankind.
When each is born, gifts to the mother and father, a reward,
A wasteful time to exist upon this earth, we all cannot afford.
A little babe, held in its mother's loving arms, so does display,
The same precious love, the Father of us all, sends each day.
Love, its meaning, a deepest of caring and all regard, to show,
Goes beyond the common ways, in our heart of hearts, to know.
The gradual building of everyone's soul upon this wide planet's soil,
Each soul, its spiritual growth, to foster love, through work, our toil.
Housed within our holy bodies, so shouts to escape, human bounds,
Held in place and so secure, by our Father's hands, his joy resounds.
Every soul, a mirrored copy, of our creator's own, of His will to share,
Never a time from our own birth, till at last, our death, his not to care.
Just as music fills the heart with its joyful refrains and is ours to hear,
The Father, Maker of us all, our best well-being, of him, is so sincere.
© 2017 whonunuwho