The Veil of Eternal Breath

Through star-wove mists, where shadows flee,
The Spirit glides, unbound, unseen.
No mortal tongue, no chanted lore,
Unravels heaven’s sacred core.

Christ, the Flame, with eyes of dawn,
Breathes light where formless voids are drawn.
His grace, a tide of molten gold,
Pours free where hearts lie bare, untold.

No labor’s spark, no ritual’s trance,
Can summon Him who moves the dance.
Forgiveness falls like twilight’s dew,
From hands that galaxies pierce through.

To bind His gift to fleshly strife
Is to eclipse the pulse of life.
Grace, a storm of wildest flame,
Defies the chains of earthly claim.

The Spirit weaves through timeless veils,
Where mortal reason falters, fails.
An "I-Thou" hymn, a cosmic sigh,
No "I-It" cage can hold Him nigh.

All glory to the Mystic King,
Whose wounds make nebulae sing.
No pride can dim His boundless sea—
Salvation’s tide, eternally free.