synecdoche

One High Priest tends the footstool of the Throne
Seraphim guard the contents of the Ark
on Yom Kippur, he'd venture in, alone
while clouds of incense kept him in the dark.
No finite space can hold our God in bounds;
He's not material to file, or bin.
He's no more merely here than up, or down.
But most reliably, He's found within.
Jerusalem, that had been Heaven's gate
was leveled by the Romans long ago.
No priesthood serves the Jews to mediate;
each individual must tap the flow.
A box of gopher-wood, veneered in gold
just held the place for what it couldn't hold.