Haunt v. “be persistently and disturbingly present in”

“Man haunted by a living ghost”
There are a lot of things in life that I love and I love them different ways. I love my family, I love my friends, I love music, I love laughing and joking, I love pizza, I love the truth. But of everything that I love, it is that strange and wonderful specter that the old saints called the Holy Ghost that demands my first loyalty. There is nothing like it that I love, there is nothing which I hold more dear. It possesses many things. It possesses power, authority, wisdom, purpose and grace. But I don’t love it for what it has, though it possesses everything, I love it for what it is. That transformative mystery which pours into human life, Love. Not love, but Love. The true Love, off which all human loves are based and of which all human loves fall short of. Its presence is never fades, always just without or within my reach. And sometimes, it disturbs me. Because I fall short, because I falter. And it disturbs me that I would betray such a resplendent creature.

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