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If your body is a temple, how do you let so many in?

Mine is a god in beggar’s uniform. I go with open arms to whoever takes me in, and when I’m there I reveal my true glory. I sit at the doorstep to your temple, begging alms. One day you’ll open your door and let me in to bask in the warmth and worship at your altar.

Now I’m a pundit, the administrator to your temple. I’m your faithful guardian. You give me shelter and I protect you from intruders. Anyone who dares encroach on you must shatter me first. They can look and admire from a distance but they must not come close, and they certainly must not enter. Your body is my temple.

Your temple is my pride.

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