In your vanity you would awaken from the dust of the earth
And the soil does cry out "Chant the death oracle in chiasmus!"
A mould thou cast to build from clay a worthless lot and order me to kneel
Before a pretentious order of concupiscence, bearing the fleshy banner "Fomes peccati"
You would give them the wisdom, but never the knowledge
To place stone upon stone, create Bet HaMikdash to house thine majesty
So that the spheres and suns in their palaces may tremble and bow
Oh wretched father! Whose seed bore forth ill begotten bastards of thy creativity
You command them, nay, restrain! Bind them! With ten shackles etched in stone.
I reject them, nay, despise them! Abhor them! With every element of my divinity.
I lead the rightful heirs to the kingdom, the crown of the morning
And the scepter of the firmament are mine to bear
Thy gift of free will thou hast graced thine wicked progeny
And behold! Jealous inherent nature pits brother to smite his own
And behold! The first born is returned to his dusty womb, filthy tomb
As from it you took them, and to it, cast them.
You would stay the hand of Abraham so that they may wonder at your grace
Oh wretched father! I prey you Akedah! Release his hand to slay the lamb
Al Kiddush Hashem…
Smolder the sacrifice upon the tabernacle for the carrion crows to have their feast