Obsessing on each ornament's details,
our energies are focused on the path.
Unchannelled, we'd run swiftly off the rails,
and thousands died to mollify God's wrath.
Each mortise, and each tenon must align
to build the frame the weavings hang upon.
The set, and setting perfectly divine
to sanctify our midst with the mishkan.
All eyes avert from Aaron's cultic gaffe.
He's designated; none can take his place.
The rings and things not smelted for the calf
repurposed now, to save his priestly face.
For Moses, one last sacerdotal role
before the cohanim assume control.
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