Fruit of a gift

Love O cliched and overplayed
Is all that the heralds proclaim it to be
It begets itself
One heart pours out and is then drowned in return

Homemade depth the true measure of value
Mass marketed breadth the sterilization of our land

One man cannot know a generation
He cannot know a race
He cannot know a nation or a town or a block
One can only know another and nothing broader

Where is that accumulation then, you bark?
No fear friend, you're not far off
You zeal for more is well rooted, just misguided
Don't look across, look in.

Love loves deep
America loves wide