The following poem reminds me of Jesus' business in Jerusalem and His lament over than city which welcomed Him at His triumphal entrance on Palm Sunday, and within days, condemned Him to die on a cross.
Go Ye Into the City
over my shoulder,
look upon it,
think upon it,
the moon hangs low,
and seems to scrape the peaks,
of mountains men have built
where there were none,
where once a forest grew,
and beasts roamed
and fed upon the lesser beasts,
where the hunted were the prey,
and hunters had control.
Look upon them,
the lights upon the darkened mountains,
where not much has really changed:
among the manmade mountains
the beasts still roam,
and feed upon the lesser beasts,
and the hunters and the prey are men.
Look at me.
Look in my eyes,
as I take leave to enter destiny,
to walk the path prepared for me,
to step into the concrete jungle,
to be prey,
to be devoured,
to seem to lose,
to do my father's business,
and in what seems to be defeat
to enter into the hearts of men,
those who will receive,
to change those hearts,
to make the concrete jungle bloom.