Children of God, all we are
yet none exactly the same by far.
Many are blessed unharmed by war
some almost perfect save for a scar.
Children so special everyday I see
unwary how hapless they could be
at their age they must be happy and free
living like any other kids full of energy.
My heart cries out for the sight.
How could I do to alleviate the plight?
I wish to make them feel at least alright
Even in tiniest way I wish to share a light.
Volunteer I did to go into their midst
has given me the chance helping out their needs.
Deep is the sorrow my eyes can't deny and keep
rivulet of tears flow, unrestrained my heart to weep.
So innocent the angelic faces
no trace of dream but minds of bits and pieces;
eyes staring in total blankness
awaits no future but engulfing darkness.
The patience I give in sweet indulgence
is worth the happiness mirrored in innocence,
temporary enjoyment and loving acquiescence
until gestures summon back to the world of strange existence.
For years I've always been doing
these volunteer works give same old feeling
and sense of fulfillment that others find menacing
if only I have all the means I'll provide them everything.
The most amazing part in this volunteer aspect
is the real meaning of life's everlasting concept;
I feel the passion, the pain and sense of neglect
I even cry with them, and laugh at their antics . . . . .
. . . . all these; a communion to a once in a lifetime feat.
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