The Druid Walks In Zion

Wherefore build temples of bricks and clay
And wash them white
Spired symmetrically round?
Man in his delusions
Building with his frail hands
Another ladder to heaven
Concrete steps to carry him to the stars
An ephemeral vessel in which to talk to God
To pull on his sleeve
To hold his collars
Until we are sure he hears our weighty words
Gifted with speech, man has filled the universe
With the whispering of his importance
And forgotten that in stillness
One can hear

Wherefore build temples of bricks and clay?
When The Temple is here in eternal peace
Built in savored splendor by infinite hands
Before temporal man ever thought to speak
Pointing with glory in a stretch to the sky
Cradling heaven in a circle of immortal stone
Wherefore build temples of bricks and clay?
Walk soft here in the sacred silence of His space
And . . .
Listen


©Edwina Peterson Cross