My Body is a Temple
Unlit candles sit beside the altar
In this sanctuary
I am the only worshiper
Cobwebs cover the corners
Broken glass lingers on the floor
Strangers pass
Empty prayers on their lips
No offerings, gifts
They glimpse the paint-peeled walls
Wispy trees with no fruit
And continue walking
The temples up ahead are decked
With golden statues and tall pedestals
It makes me aware that my temple is a shell
An apparition of what it is supposed to be
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