The harpsichords of my Masada silently weep…!: A poem

Did I feel my knees hurt in a kind of abandonment?

Masada crying in its decrepitude, and I can hear it

in my soul. Had they accused me with too much

damage from the distance? If they only knew how much

they scourged me in my walk for eternity? And I didn’t

even measure those determined steps I took all that while,

as if I had even counted the steps on Mount Everest or

Olympus Mons. I was silently adored by a few, and

voraciously and vehemently despised by many! Ask me,

who were the ones among them who were the thieves. The harp

of my soul silently weeps, as I stumble upon the leftovers of amulets

that speak with my many names with a tragic endowment! For,

far too many times I was flung down the stairs of the Temples

in eternity, so I broke my limbs, and worse, was subsequently

stoned to death. Should I say my icons were stolen from the

Temples and demolished by the thieves and rapiners! Do you

understand my disgrace to dignity when I am asked to pardon

them. As if evil must have it easy one way or the other! May

 I visit a recent lifetime (2000 years ago), when I did

not bathe in the river Jordan with John the Baptist, nor did I

ride an ass into the city like Jesus to proclaim my Godhood, even if

Joseph, in fact, delegated me with the Messianic legacy, which

intimidated both Saint Paul and Ananus ben Ananus; and who

conspired to abduct the truths from me, or else murder me!

Likewise, later, Jacques du Molay who inherited those truths

and was tortured and burnt by Philip the Fair and Pope Clement

the V because he  wouldn’t divulge them! O how my sitar silently

weeps in the loneliness of righteousness that is waylaid to confiscation,

if it doesn’t subjugate itself! Should my voice feel empathy and mark

their foreheads with the ash obtained from the rape of my virtuosity!

I am at a point where I’ve understood how my guitar silently weeps

in an Age where evil has gotten too far out of hand and hijacks everything

righteous, if I stand up for that everything! My armies bled at too many

Masadas; but will my sublimity weep further, or should I step in with

my sense of intense justice and reprisal with disastrous consequences?