House Bezaleel

A Son of Shame, a Son of Confusion, I bow before God, as a Dove wings through Thunder in Vain. A Son of Sabas, returned to bestow Rest, suspends the Waters of the Honourable. Who is Blessed between the Sons of Contempt, those made of Iron, or the Sons of Prophets, toothed in pure Ivory, perfumed with the Confusion of Death and Desolation? Cast under Daughters of Oath, and Daughters of Wealth, void and empty, as the first Begotten, the first Fruits of those Alone, the Solitary. The only Lord in accordance to Judgment, an Open Idol. Beelzebub declaring the rains within the well of Elim, the well of Him that liveth and seeth Me, explaining the well of an Oath, the seventh well of Beasts not worth half a shekel, destroying the Wicked and Worthless master of the bad treasure with Mine heart and Soul, to bring to light He who lays up treasures in Secret. The Sons of Lightning noise upon the Sorrows of Grace. The Son of Mine sorrows and pain burning and torching, declaring the Blessing, the bending of the knee. Heavy, weighty Hail pours upon the choosing of the Lord, in fellowship and Envy, as a Covenant, one that brings Victory, as a Bearer of Victory. The Son of Death, a Cypress of despising, dirty Counsels, denying the Incarnation of glad news, stuns the Confidence within the belly of the House of Confidence to glorify the House of Affliction. Each a House of Song, built within the House of Affliction, set in for the House of Dates, betrothed unto the House of Misery and Depression. A House of Heights birthed the House of Vanity, of Iniquity and Trouble, and so, the House of Deaths Strength, the Idol of this Dwelling Place. The Chosen House, the House of My Creator, the House of Health, the House of the Lamb, a House of Deepness and Division in the Trial. The House of Pity and Mercy, as a House of Bitterness wiped out, Houses the Vineyard of Recompense, vining onto the House of Grace. The House of Wrath, is the House of Lionesses, a House of Leopards, a House of Expulsion, a House of Dividing Asunder the House of Gaping. Ivory sleep fell upon the House of the Sun, filiation of God, a House of betrothed Rocks in the Shadow of God. The Lightning surged in the Chains as the Life Force within Vine Branches, those First Born of First Fruits. In Compunction and Sharp Pain, the Soul Housed with the Press, amidst an Ancient Countenance. Timid in the Tongue, building an Evil and a Son who Beholds, in Peace, as a Worshiper of the Yah, the Tongues divisions produce Violent Precipitations. Despite that, that buds and is brought forth, as a Son of Thunder, be a Pillar of Strength amidst the First Born, within the Places of Weeping, be in them in Poverty, taking away not even Mud in Tribulation or Distress. Void is not the Dissipation of the Lord. Though of old age, non-perishing, building and understanding, building Me, building You, You who art My understanding. Despised and plundered is Mine Contempt.