Atop Mount Scopus
Looking down at Jerusalem
In bygone days them
Barred entry took to that redoubt
Treating themselves to a painful glimpse
Entreating themselves, tears well in wince
Atop Mount Scopus.
Close indeed to moon in Scorpio
Mount of Olives
Host of cedar
Hunting ground of Demeter
A clasped hand bars the door
The gloved fist of Caesar
Up here the land plays like a dream
Dollops of thick cloud shrouding the beams
Sunlight streaming through the world’s seams
Aureate beams as crown Christ sheen
The drab dressed until they gold gleam
His works unseen imbue with meaning
Through cloudclearing light falling in sequins
And from every sunlit corner the Temple is seen.
On the mount of olives in a cleft
Hidden there at a Sage’s behest
A claw shaped jewel at the mountain’s breast
Jacinths, jets and agates impressed upon its stressed metals
A ruby festers in its solar pommel red as evening west.
Alchemisland 
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