The Temple Torn - Poem

  The Temple Torn

They wait for fire from skies above,
For wrath, for war, for wrathful love.
But blind they walk, who cannot see
The kingdom came, in 70.

The stones once stood on Zion’s height,
First temple crowned in sacred light.
But Babylon’s hand laid waste the pride,
And still the covenant survived.

Then came the Second—Herod’s throne,
A gleam of gold, yet hollow stone.
The priests grew fat, the law grew cold,
As Rome crept in with grip of old.

But lo, the Third was not of clay—
No gilded walls, no grand display.
The Word made flesh, the Temple true,
In Him the ancient things made new.

Did He not say, “Destroy this place,
And in three days I shall replace?”
And so He rose, the veil was torn,
The holy ground forever born.

No longer bricks, no need for bulls—
The city lives where Spirit pulls.
Is He not Zion, walking breath?
Who conquered sin, who conquered death?

The prophecy is not delayed,
The lion came, the price was paid.
He reigns not from a worldly throne,
But in the hearts that are His own.

Yet still they wait with blinded eyes,
For signs and smoke in shattered skies.
They build a throne for ancient lies,
And lift the beast they deify.

They call it Israel—man-made name,
They forge a god, then bless its claim.
Like golden calf by Sinai's flame,
They trade the Lamb for tribal shame.

They preach delay, they sell the end,
They twist the Word they can’t defend.
They make the past a future myth
To keep the masses lost adrift.

But Zion stands, not made by hands—
It walks in hearts across the lands.
The New Jerusalem is here,
For those with eyes and those with ears.

He came. He reigns. He will not fall.
He was the temple, once for all.
And those who seek Him face to face
Have already found the holy place.