The Ark Of The Covenant. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A wooden box, a sacred thing,
The Ark of God, the stories sing.
With tablets held, of laws so old,
A promise whispered, to unfold.

From Sinai's peak, a journey long,
A people led, both weak and strong.
The Ark went forth, a guiding light,
Through desert days and darkest night.

In tabernacle's heart it stayed,
Then Solomon, a temple made.
A holy space, where God could dwell,
A secret kept, a sacred spell.

But time moved on, the temple fell,
Where went the Ark? No one can tell.
Some say it sleeps, on Nebo's height,
In hidden cave, obscured from sight.

A simpler chest, in days of yore,
Built by Moses, to hold the lore.
A symbol too, of might and grace,
Protecting them in every place.

In battles won, a fearsome sign,
God's presence felt, a power divine.
A war God shown, in dust and heat,
Their victory won, their foes to meet.

The mystery holds, the search goes on,
For Ark of God, forever gone.
A legend lives, in whispered prayer,
A hope remains, that waits somewhere.


T.M.Solvang