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The Dandy Saint

The Dandy Saint

He walks where the ordinary dissolves—
a shimmer stitched in human form,
buttons glinting like small suns
on a jacket born of rebellion and silk.

He speaks in color, laughs in chords,
his breath scented with irony and roses.
Each gesture, deliberate;
each silence, divine punctuation.

He is no martyr, though he glows like one—
his halo a crown of sequins and sincerity.
He saves no souls but awakens them,
calling forth the courage to be seen.

Where others kneel, he dances.
Where others preach, he hums.
His gospel is stitched into lapels and kindness,
into the art of being enough.

He turns self-love into liturgy,
adorning the world in unapologetic grace.
Every mirror he passes becomes
a chapel of becoming.

His virtue is laughter.
His creed, delight.
He blesses with a wink,
and absolves with style.

The Dandy Saint is proof
that holiness can wear perfume,
and that salvation sometimes arrives
in the form of joy well-dressed.

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