The Friday Evening Service
The conceit of time slides away,
Resonating echoes trickle within:
Empty mouths have heaved each holy day,
“Guard us when we come out and when we come in”
Eternity can encompass not at will,
But beyond the momentary.
Stretching through wide, frescoed corridors,
A grey scent plumes from a blessed kill.
Now we exist once more,
Compelled to write upon our door
The metaphysical; scrawls awarded
Meaning in fevered, ancestral minds.
A shout of mammalian bone
Rings down the generations,
To remind of laws on stone,
Instilled by ceaseless recitations.
Unitary expanse of thought,
Repeated, growing in force,
Beneath a burning, pitiless sun,
The rising chant declares: “the Eternal is one”.