Veiled.
The veil hung in the temple.
The Veil hung on a cross.
The veil hung like a cape on the back of a costumed superhero who came to seek and save the Lost.
Hidden within Him was a whirlwind which would whisk the world to less than clay dust,
Even down to the crust.
Just a touch of the genuine article, would lift up waterfalls, flood deserts of dry bones with miracles...but guess what?
He hid it all.
His flesh was the screen, human being being God,
The capsule to keep us from having fragile eyes torn off,
For none can see the actual Glory of Jehovah,
The veiled flesh as a precious pullover,
A veil.
And he availed himself, frame just a fragile fabric yet they nailed his self to the cross, bloody tragic.
But, Within the flesh of Him destined for death was the sweetest of breaths,
the breath of a life of sacrifice pulsed in His chest,
As He inhaled, exhaled.
Until it was time to be unveiled.
The veil separating Light from Dark,
Sinful skin from aurum ark,
The blackest night from argon stars,
Was ours.
To be certain, this curtain was perfect, Not once did He falter,
Thus, the disgrace of the cross was Him draped on the Altar...
And when the knife fell and His body got torn,
The veil got slashed, with a Holy sword,
Because the Veil which withheld the very Glory of the Lord, was laid down to secure the salvation of all...
The veil.
