The small mirror

a temple  
is a house 
a shelter 
a home 
a vessel 
that carries 
a source  
an abode 
of light 
or of dark 
a place 
to be filled 
with wine 
or with oil 
or with gold 
or goodwill 

who lives  
in your chapel, 
your cave  
or your den? 
whose tables  
are trading? 
whose purses  
are filled? 
what pours  
from the mouth 
of your earthenware  
vase? 
Is it rivers  
of life 
or the waft 
of decay? 

the tables 
will turn 
should the Master  
arrive 
upsetting  
the merchants 
of bad  
enterprise 
restoring  
true order 
and making  
things new 
the waking 
of morning 
the touch of  
fresh dew 

a temple  
is a garden 
of blissful 
delight 
the fruits 
of a forest 
beyond  
reach of night 
the sweetness 
of honey 
that flows 
from a rock 
a mirror 
Shechina 
whose depths 
we unlock

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