Ark of the Covenant

Bamboozled patriarchs with dark influencing gestures
And obtuse grimacing hipsters
With a loose grip on the tinctures
And a cold slip of the scissors
Undid the knot tying us together.
But Grace snuck in through a fissure
Illuminated the room
Emancipated all who could see
And shrank from the world
Like bright paint through a drain
With no rumor
Quiet as a tomb