Death,
if seen,
then,
now burns alive within.

Unapproachable,
then,
now leads,
by hand.

Mysterious,
yet,
to those whom it was given,
now revealed,
to the ignorant, who never desired it.

That which baptised the Earth,
then,
now,
a spring that waters Jerusalem.

Sword of Ishmael, robed in Assyria's mantle,
Consecrated of God, Prince of princes,
A Destroyer: the executioner of judgements.
A thorn driven deep into the heart of Jerusalem,
Tempting violent men, who pride in their strength,
as Excalibur and the Gordian Knot challenged
Arthur and Alexander.

The elder women walked
the dry land for twelve days
None of the sand-demons found them

The white garden
shall remain unseen
'till the angel's corpse
sprouts from the earth's belly

When will the golden hawks
be free again?
The walls of Jerusalem
had almost fallen down

In every crown
the lidless eye
is placed

Notre Dame Burns
Jerusalem Obliterated
Raised in Three Days
Yet Persists Wars and Bitter Hatred

Not unknown nor unseen,
but not as conquering hero came.
Not crowned with many crowns,
with unknowable Name,
but as Branch, on Beast that spoke,
departs from the Father, to serve,
with his Body, to pay the Bride's price.
And when in the fullness of time,
on the tenth of the first month,
with a blast of angelic trumpets,
He shall return as King
with Bride and twelve Princes.