Pesach poetry that rocks

My friend Eliezer P. sent this over and I’m really down with it.

Passover arrives, ushering in the spring solstice,

We retell our affirmation of The Pact; our true Locus,
Snow, now thawed, we are – in body – liberated anew,
Joyously singing of our New Nation; rich in value(s),
With their faith over-riding frigid Doubt;
earthly shackles disintegrating before the crowd,
We are akin to them – we at this on-fire table,
Yearning to be rocked again by God’s warm cradle.

The sublime spring soon gets lost in the background,
The yeast in our dough rises, we find reasons to frown,
If only we could fill that vacuous need,
‘please!’ we beg – ‘oh Lord provide me,’
A salve for that internal hole; we crave a release,
Weary; we feel justified in crying; ‘Do feed us quail meat,’
‘And if not too much trouble: opulent Corvettes with bucket seats,’
Covered over; down many rungs; we know,
True satiation comes not to the tongue; rather the soul,

A beautiful, heart-rending freedom was granted to us,
Weak beings; racked with baseless fear and mistrust,
Tucked beneath our game-changing emancipation,
We will toil; and finally intuit a profound moment of realization,
That by effectively utilizing our God-given sovereignty,
We can once again abandon our empty artificialities,
Rising above; higher; as much as we are able,
’till Eternity; when once again; we will rock in His warm cradle.

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