The Zealot's Blindfold

Your tradition was an illusion, a monstrous pillar of ash towering high, blacking out the sky; illusion of substance.

As we pull that tower down, we saw Heaven kiss the ground.

Oh G-d, the Life that shot through our bones.

We cried out for water driven from stone.

To finally meet the Shining One, that we might praise, as They shown.