Quintessence Poem by Dr John Celes

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.