The Cyclic relief of a Nation

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Oh clouds of darkness
Where have you gone away?
Not gone today, but gone away?

Where's the crescent grey moon and the black night sky?
The tumbling ocean-waves cashing into bank-shores?

Branches become the wind as they choir their shed.
Birds whistle eerie descants prolonging the dread.

Israel now dwells between two water-walls, channeling the very hand of God, eating the very bread of Angels- intercoursed with the Most High God.

Oh that the peoples could see!
This is the root and breast of Canticles yet to be sung.
The arms and legs of a faith second to none.

Rejoice, oh the Man that led us back to God!
Oh the staff of Pharoah's plague!
The slaughtered lamb-paint dyed wood,
Ah the first-born first-cry echoes
And the pestilence of things unseen.

Oh Great man where did you find such strength, such might, such a God?

Was he there when Pharoah's spit sauced my tea?
And when the labourers went unslept, pulsing the actualities of the grave?
Oh Deliver us!
Remember us! Speak to us! Avenge us! Deliver us!
Take them! Cease them! Capture them! Praise us! Praise him!

Oh God we now believe, we now remember, Deliver them! Enough! Save them! Forgive them!

Their mourns fill the air but not more than our praises.
Mortals now sit rubbing the shoulders of God in Mystical Communion.
A change of mind
And a change of heart
The cyclic relief of a nation
The dread of another.

Fruits of the spear-it mentality
Golden Calves and Copper snakes Water-rocked lies flowing sweeter by far than milk and honey.

Oh that the peoples could hear now,
Chanted hallelujahs for one full measure of Grace.
Another Lamd wood-dye paint, across my entrance to thy heavenly shores.

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