Where superlatives go to be purified

I have learned to love hyperbole
To exaggerate purposefully
It is the language of love glowing
Bubbling, brimming, overflowing

And with a little two-word qualifier
I can take any superlative
Any galaxy
Any solar system
Any star
And fit it in my pocket

My wife is the best cook
In the universe
For me

My son is the smartest boy
In the galaxy
For me

My daughters are the sweetest little women
In the world
For me

But God is where all superlatives go to be purified
In the fire of literal perfection
Where all limiting qualifiers are stripped
Where all exaggerations become understatements
Where all poets speak as children
Before the un-exaggeratable
Most High

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