The fire burns gently in the hearth,
The window of love is opened,
And the smell of garden blooms drift in.
The smoke of peace wreathes the home,
The laughter of children and the old
Encompasses the home.
Whose dwelling is this?
Who has created heaven in the waves of chaos?
Where is the foundation hidden and laid?
Whose arm laid it and brought it to bear divine fruits?
The heart of the Lord is in the home
Bonded by love that never dies,
Drenched with thoughts of peace
That cannot be broken,
Nor its walls of harmony breached.
The pets laze around,
The children gather colourful toys to play,
The birds and insects sing in the garden,
The footsteps of the father echoes in the yard,
And the joyful mother sings in the kitchen.
Is it Christmas? For there is a smell in the air,
A quickening smell of delight,
The sounds of heart beats lifted in expectation,
A scrambling of joy filled feet in the courtyard.
Lights, lights, pouring and dancing on water fountains,
Or is it the fountain of joy we see? Of hope and peace?
Erected there by a family of oneness of purpose and will,
Under the seal of love divine.
I have seen the fruits of your garden,
Coloured, blooming with life, who nurtures them?
What tender hands have blessed this garden?
What loving care has poured itself selflessly into this home?
What sacrifice has been made to posses this priceless treasure?
Surely not the thoughts of evil,
Of rapacity, of selfishness, or rebellion, pride, ego, stubbornness,
Meanness, envy, strife, thoughtlessness, greed and hate.
Surely not them, because I have seen those, in smartly dressed suits,
With pained caked smiles behind towers of steel,
That has gone beyond flesh into minds and souls
To eat up flesh and bones replacing with steel hearts.
You will know them; piercing eyes of merchants looking
And asking “what is in it for me?”
They are like the troubled waves of the sea
Never settling, driven by every wind of change,
And searching for treasures that exist within the power of money.
Traders of sorrows, composers of songs of misery,
Looking for whom to put on the burdens of death in the land of the living.
Life is simple when we submit to the divine rules upon which it was created.
But we have complicated ourselves with alien desires,
Where the simplicity has become foolishness,
Even of love that holds so many blessings,
Has become unappealing to the brilliant minds.
We become captives of fools when we become wise in our eyes,
And the subtle serpent takes them in its snares
And devours without mercy.
The arm of love is slender and fragile looking,
And the egoistical passes by it,
Yet this arm bears the burden of the universe;
The heart of the Lord, who by mercy sustains the world,
In hope undying, that all would come
To the knowledge and truth that is Christ-
A Family Home of Love eternal.
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