Tiny Lord from Heaven

Rain, one can explain as heaven’s reward.

Falls from the sky, heaven’s source of supply.

Product of Lord,

His blessings and award.

In guise of rain,

Lord relieves all our pain.

With full mirth, Lord mix with Earth  

quench the thirst of nature parched. 

Earth’s reservoir – big and small,

belongs to Him all.  

In His clay earth, at will He berth.

Be shallow well or deep sea,    

where He will be, know none but He.  

If the well dries or the sea level rise

Nothing matter to the water,

as it’s only part, not the whole.

It depart on heaven’s call, aborting all

and fuse with Lord, whom it extol.

Water is like soul,

a tiny Lord in all clay mould.     

It comes and goes, no late no early

like faithful orderly.    

Part of Lord, with full of mirth,

comes down to earth.  

Lord sojourn with His creation.  

Clay becomes live as Lord arrive,

it has no other fascination.

Tiny Lord, in every bod it dwell,

only to keep us well.  

Alas, at final call, it departs leaving all,   

no looking back at all, no farewell.