the adamant flux of vigor.
my sentient carcass and it’s self-inflicted wounds.
my sluttish heart and it’s erratic moods.
my warped spirit and it’s infinite feuds.
and still you linger,
my egalitarian but nevertheless individually generous
God.
patiently barring your feeble host.
extremely tolerating,
highly valuing this wretched shell,
cherishing it through its‘ self,
through Your breath.
this inexhaustible breeze that enlivens us
all.
why?
