Jerusalem bones

The bones in are in the garden of evil,

Beyond the dreams of saints.

They last until the dawns repreavel,

When mighty heaven paints.

Alas my child if broke be bent,

Upon a shelf of serpentine,

With all the Jewish merchants hence.

If hearts awake and love as though,

A bone of Christ is in their soul,

Then shadow of a life be yours.

Within the pearly heaven shores.