In Jerusalem there is a street

A mural of Jerusalem
In Jerusalem there is a street
Where two points of the compass meet.
And though carnivals there dance aplenty,
And demonstration a modus vivendi,
It is a place of quiet retreat.

For at the end of the street is a cave,
Where lizards will never behave.
Though spiders send a soul yelling,
It’s there brave translator, Knot Telling,
Surfs the electromagnetic wave.

Outside her window rich colour
Splashes a courtyard hewn duller,
Built from the stones
Of ancient buildings and homes,
And a zephyr of breeze to lull her.

In the cool of her cave she’ll sit,
And from her desk she’ll transmit,
In a series of notes,
Reasoned, judicious motes,
The wisdom of her wit.

Communication must always work two ways
And the same whether contact conveys
Love and support,
Jokes or witty retort,
By caring as such each one prays.

For the reach of the cave is vast
And out on the ether is cast
A network of friends
That physical boundary transcends,
Time, space, and motion surpassed.
 

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