Solomon, bright as morning sun,
a crown heavier than gold,
wisdom poured like water
into vessels of endless thirst.
He spoke of cedars, hyssop,
and the secret songs of birds,
boundless as sand,
greater than kings.
A temple rose at his command,
stone and cedar, prayer and glory,
a dwelling built for God—
but could not hold the builder's heart.
In love multiplied, his wisdom stumbled;
the splendor fractured in shadows cast
by altars raised to lesser gods.
Seven hundred queens,
thousands of whispered promises,
and the quiet slipping of his soul.
Yet greatness lingered,
undiminished but stained,
a king's sorrow woven through gold.
The throne remained,
but the kingdom tore like fabric,
and Israel bore the weight
of a heart turned away.
But in tragedy echoes hope:
though Solomon fell, God's love did not.
For it is not in wisdom,
nor riches nor mighty deeds,
but in mercy given freely,
that a king is redeemed.
Solomon, grandeur mingled with grief,
human and holy intertwined,
God loved you still—
and that is what remains.
A Reflection
The life of Solomon resonates with us because it encapsulates the profound paradox of human existence—greatness shadowed by frailty. His extraordinary wisdom, divinely bestowed and unmatched, exemplified humanity’s highest potential. Solomon spoke eloquently of nature’s wonders, resolved intricate dilemmas, and presided over an era of unparalleled peace and prosperity. Yet, this exceptional wisdom and splendor could not shield him from human vulnerability.
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