A gimel, a zayin, a yodh

A gimel ג
A zayin ז
A yodh י
Somehow accurate even when the context is flawed
Somehow specific even when the context is broad
There's comfort knowing this too shall pass

For we've all seen times we'd change if we could
and moments placed where we'd want them stood
A "perpetual oscillation of evil and good"
But will this too pass?

I wonder if it's just beyond our mental scope
That something fresh and free could stretch beyond that trope
Give us future, give us freedom, give us everlasting hope
and a faith which shall not pass

Something Solomon will soon admire
To unclamp his eyelids and spark to respire
To be recreated above his restful mire
In a body which shall not pass

In fact, his whole life will have been made anew
A white wall where his sins used to accrue
A fresh set of eyes will make their debut
with clarity which shall not pass

He'll find the sultan he once consulted for
and apologize that his wisdom isn't relevant anymore
That his Proverbs were replaced with an angelic encore
with lyrics which shall not pass

He'll find that sultan next to Daniel and Job
teaching bloody King Henry to relinquish his robe
They've been in deep conversation while walking the globe
with vigor which shall not pass

And Solomon will sleep in a bed built with hands
not bought with his gold, but in fact his own, using his own plans
But he'll build a home in each of his visited lands
because his hard work shall not pass

And his gimel, his zayin, his yodh — they're of little use
because there is no depression left to diffuse
there is now just time — time with which anything can be deduced
the chains that invariably pull us all to our deaths have come loose
and signed billions to a treaty to garner Death's truce
so many friends to make, souls to heal, ancestors to introduce
but there's time for all that time will produce

for this is speeding towards us like a plummeting mass
and once it hits and blankets every peak and crevasse
and resets every hourglass
and erases every "oh darn" and "better luck next time" and "alas"
and breezes through every tombstone's grass
and then — then it will never, ever, ever pass.