Woe to Me, Jerusalem: Sacred Poetry

by Cosmic Poet Simon Pole

Trans Solar World Battery image by Joe Haput CC BY-SA

Woe to Me, Jerusalem

Woe to you, Jerusalem,
From when the sun is hot,
And rain for parchèd lips
In the evening falls not,
They shall come up, all of them,
The nations, and their grip
Shall topple gate, wall, and stone,
Shall topple gate, wall, and stone,
And throw down the cherub’s throne.

Woe to you deep aque…