Glory for Rations

There was an outpouring      
Time used and not spent      
down slots      
Of old machines      
Where the jackpot was kept      
Within the cage      
     
Rolling...  it rolled      
     
By vision not not      
not fear      
Did our fingers tremble      
tremble tremble        
From exhausted sinews      
     
And the gaze over taped up spectacle      
Was a vertical one      
The vertical expanded      
the horizontals' possibility      
     
One of our own      
Covered      
Under the shadow of His wing      
     
A thousand purposes laid through the field      
And the bloody fist apon the plow      
Felt altogether awful to the summers touch      
     
But the Son saw something in it.      
     
And the straw, it rolled  rolled    
Rolled into hay      
And the hay hay    
Hay    
It glittered.  
     
It glittered like Gold