Isaiah 6: 1-8

the seraphs, shimmering as if aflame
flew on strong winds bellowing the coals to life;
even the heavenly hosts used borrowed tools to take
cleansing fire to touch my lips, set loose my tongue.
Burning from the outside in, swallowing fire
to fill my belly and stoke my heart and pepper my speech;
seasoned, destroyed and made new in one smoky breath,
the exhalation like incense rising with the sweet smell of prayer.

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