Existential Poetry

Who am I on this Earth?
A process of renewal, toil, birth?;

Marred by grasping hands of demeaning worth; They cannot. Halt them, they that go forth!

Begin anew, this process of purification; Perceiving such glory in divine saturation

Life is but a gaze into a mirror upon Your sweet countenance; For you to gaze back is my sacred blessedness

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