The Hills of Jerusalem

Such blinding, glancing light
the sand grains refract, see
through the shimmering air
the ancient hills purple
and white in God's heat, he
heats up the land, uses
the anvil and the hammer
to contour it, the
rain to cool, and we
no less tempered by his steel, his
long plan born long before
we began and long
after, cower
in the shadow of white walls
shielding our thin skins
from a light that
crumbles and sears
all our works and days.
A Glass of Pure Water
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