The whole building is shining from the inside out, and he’s spent more weight in gold than he can count to be able to store the brilliance of the sun inside one place.

The miracle is found not in the fact that he’s able to construct this temple, but the fact that he still has a lot of precious metals left to spare.

He sits back smiling, and watches as the entire nation comes to celebrate, bringing the ark home as if it should – and does – belong in the new temple.

It’s strange how one object makes a building a home, but it does, and he’s pretty sure the warmth on his face and in his chest is from more than the lake of fire that burns the countless number of sacrifices.

When the trumpets sound and musicians sing, a cloud made of glory descends and sits inside the sun, and he thinks to himself that there is nothing more real than this.

Blah blah blah

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