By Richard Mather
And so the gods of lead and brass,
The idols and their thrones,
The teraphim made of fibreglass
The mummified skulls and bones,
Are tossed inside a whirl of wind
And shattered into shells.
But deep inside the kellipot
The light of Yahweh dwells.
And from the pieces
something new arises in the land,
A temple of the Sabbath King
Built by Ezekiel's hand.
With cherubim and fan-leaved palms
carved in the walls of paradise,
and the air perfumed with oranges
or some exotic spice,
And a roof of purest silver
Adorned with golden stones
That flicker with the eyes of God
In this land of dry-dust bones.
And in the sanctuary at the core
a cloud of brilliant light
And the name of God in lettered form
That glowed like chrysolite.
And in the hollow of the earth
Beneath this strange device
The Tree of Life is budding souls,
Each one a pearl of highest price.
Out in the desert garden,
The garden of the King,
The jugglers and the tricksters
Dance around a ring.
And in that selfsame garden,
That sparkled fire and ice,
the ministers, priests and angels sing
the Song of the Sabbath Sacrifice.
And when the nations come to ask
why the Ashrei is recited thrice,
Let the ministers, priests and angels sing
The Song of the Sabbath Sacrifice.
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