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God is a Child

O God,
Sometimes, I think,
You are a child,
Who scatters the stars,
Across the fields of sky,
Then, one by one,
gather them all,
by morn and
put them in a bag,
Which shines forth and becomes Sun
And you carry the bag,
From East to West
Never you seem tired or bored
Never You seem to care
What others think
You are stoic
You are eternal
You are benevolent
You never cease to surprise

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