Impressions of you through the passing doors,
wondering what it is you want?
My heart is so sad, it grieves for what once was.
There is nothing left to do, but accept, and hold on.
Refined like gold on a potter's wheel, a sculpture
chiseled out of fire, are we done yet?
Lord, I humbly bow before your throne,
please heal me and make me ready for your own.
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