Museum of Miracles
Behold the mystery, look, but do not touch
Miracles locked, preserved in glass cases
on display to muse, astonish faces
Behold to your right, four thousand are fed,
to your left, Lazarus raised from the dead
Come closer, is that a question I see?
No, this power is not for you or me
Flash your cameras, marvel at the sign,
this one reads: Water transformed into wine
Behold the mystery, look, but do not touch
Religion guards and circles through the night
recording miracles by width and height
Excavate etymology in Greek—
categorize, philosophize, critique
Behold the mystery, look, but do not touch
Gather children, hold them close to your side
cup your palms to mask their curious eyes.
Here is a provoking anomaly:
Peter trusts Jesus to walk on the sea
But from the boxed crowd laced with composure
a boy ducks the velvet-roped enclosure
His innocence paints a smudge on the glass
diverting some stares from the captive class
He whispers a sound, touching heaven's ear
tilting the tourist guide's smile to austere—
whipping through air like ribbons in the wind—
shattering glass from beginning to end
Plucking a splinter from the pile of glass
the guard stands baffled how it came to pass
The laws of physics can never explain
a whisper grinding glass down to a grain—
Behold the mystery, there's power in The Name.
Behold the mystery, look, but do not touch
Miracles locked, preserved in glass cases
on display to muse, astonish faces
Behold to your right, four thousand are fed,
to your left, Lazarus raised from the dead
Come closer, is that a question I see?
No, this power is not for you or me
Flash your cameras, marvel at the sign,
this one reads: Water transformed into wine
Behold the mystery, look, but do not touch
Religion guards and circles through the night
recording miracles by width and height
Excavate etymology in Greek—
categorize, philosophize, critique
Behold the mystery, look, but do not touch
Gather children, hold them close to your side
cup your palms to mask their curious eyes.
Here is a provoking anomaly:
Peter trusts Jesus to walk on the sea
But from the boxed crowd laced with composure
a boy ducks the velvet-roped enclosure
His innocence paints a smudge on the glass
diverting some stares from the captive class
He whispers a sound, touching heaven's ear
tilting the tourist guide's smile to austere—
whipping through air like ribbons in the wind—
shattering glass from beginning to end
Plucking a splinter from the pile of glass
the guard stands baffled how it came to pass
The laws of physics can never explain
a whisper grinding glass down to a grain—
Behold the mystery, there's power in The Name.