To Whom Does This Come

The Battle Rages I am an egg. Not an onion. My layers do not run so deep. Shell, yolk, albumin, My own 3-in- 1 Trinity! And why not? Says I... For in His likeness was I formed. From the purity of the body of Spirit Into this wretched flesh was I born. There's the albumin and there's the shell, But where's the yolk, pray tell? Why, the soul! The essence of I, myself, and me! My soul, made by God and always traveling. A spiritual home, was once my souls abode, And no boxes there to pack when I moved to my fleshly home. All three parts of me living in this shell made of dirt and dust, Always quarreling, always a fuss. My purity of Spirit urged me to do good, to be kind, forgiving, as I should... And the flesh is feral, selfish, very easily offended. Listening to self and demonic forces, not as God intended. This battle has Raged for thousands of years, But He made a way for us to live without fear! Each part of me is so hungry! Hungry for food both physical and spiritual. Whichever we feed the most, grows the stronger still. The flesh yearns for self-satisfaction, self-gratification... While the Spirit looks for words of Truth and self Moderation. Feed the Spirit to keep him strong and in control... Starve the flesh of self and you'll keep a pure and happy soul!