I have sinned, friend.
But my sin is not a God
To smother my Divinity.
Innate, alive
God writhes within me,
A burning fire
A tripartite light.
How low I sank
I may not tell
But in the muddy
Fires of Hell
Is not my destination.
I drank from an evil cup
And yet
God took me to his bosom
And I Am transfigured.
Me, a Sinner.
A broken piece of pottery
That...
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