Temples of Flesh and Fire
What God does with Dust
I weep within my soul, in joy absolute…
For I have glimpsed the light through shadow’s fogged forests.
In utter despair of spirit, shattered longing prolonged.
I have been blessed and highly favored by the Most High-
To have heard the hint of the whisper of His voice in stillness!
Bricks of flesh sacredly laid with bones marrow.
Rising hues from darkest ebony to purest snow.
Soul’s portals contained in eye slanted, squinted, wrinkled, and closed-
Cathedrals all to varied masters’ emotive force.
Emptied, full, broken-down husks, complete, known, and unknown.
Shine that light my daughter.
Let my glory be revealed in poet’s muse as Holy fires flame.
Arms of Fathers storied glories encompass and warm.
Feeding furnaces of Temples altar-sanctified, sacred.
The flesh, the inhabitation of the Holy.
That He might be revealed.
That His love might be felt.
That you too might be held-
Little lost lambs in need of mothered arms’ embrace,
And the Father’s home in hearts inviting eternity.
© Eiri Waters
Poet of Light, Child of the Living God
This work is a whisper from the storm, a spark in the dark, and a voice for those who tremble but still stand.
To God be the glory. To the reader — be the fire.