The Temple of Be

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Some philosophers deny that the concept of 'being' has any meaning at all.

Somewhere along the why
of a sleight alley
a salvation army
in a slaver's galley
nears the valley of grow
and wins the question of where.

Nowhere near Ragnorak
or Cheops in the sand
Nowhere near a hearth
nor even under the sun.

But when the wheat is yield
before the fermented field
right after the tear of winter
comes the dressing of the Maypole.

Dates back to the old storehouse
in sight of the shepherd and sheep
beyond the door of despair ye who enter;
Knock like the meek-kneed servant
to the strongman who is bound.

But how?

Cast mountains into the sea.
Call Lazarus back for tea.
Charge the TV Pharisee.
Bring down the Tempe of Be.

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