Despite imperfections of this body,
my shell is an earthen clay jar
that's fragile, flawed and easily broken,
letting the Light of Christ shine.
Though not pretty on the outside,
I won't be mistaken
for a white-washed tomb -
God can use my weakness
to display His greatness.
I've chosen to be submitted
to His Will and Plan for my life.
In spite of exterior chips, dings and nicks,
Christ looks inwardly at my heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
With a place ink - blood... Very deep, this forces to think of vanity a life... And about shower rescue... 10........................................... Tsira