Peel back the layers
like an onion
to the burning place within
where words are helpless
to capture the pulse of existence.
Like burning white hot fire
is the Spirit of God
that dares make his home
in broken, dusty shells of man
unworthy of such a gift.
Dull ears, blind eyes, hard hearts
can you sense what is within you?
Do not flesh and bones cry out
in frightened awe that
the breath of God is present here?
My mind cannot capture his image.
My heart cannot contain his love.
My lips cannot convey his power.
Yet he claims my very being
as his holy temple.
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