Searching for Rain

We slouched towards Bethlehem,
A loose affiliation of strangers and hemp sacks,
A collection of memories and uncertainty,
The concrete and the abstract,
The Sacred and profane,
Looking for grace at the walls of Jerusalem,
Like a pilgrim searches for the rain.

Promises, like rules were always made to be broken,
so take these words as a gift,
for quality only comes with effort,
Silver only comes with the flame,
and redemption only comes with sin.

These hallowed, weeping wall keep more out than they let in,
these strange walls of lamentation,
off one true and only breath,
these walls of the West.

A different value,
a different world,
which keeps the grit,
and throws out the pearl.

That puts commerce before art,
looks for the ending, before the start,
that looks to the skin,
and not to the fragile beating heart.

So, as we all slouch towards Bethlehem,
A loose affiliation of strangers and allies,
A lie uncovered,
A truth just realised,
Looking for the abstract,
In the concrete,
The sacred in those that were
Searching for Rain,
Looking for a moment of enlightenment,
Before the fall from grace.