בס״ד
Acharei Mos-Kedoshim
HaShem is cloaked amidst the smoke,
Behind a curtain hidden,
Aaron alone can enter there,
But only when he’s bidden.
With love and awe and humble heart,
He bathes before he enters,
Then lights the incense carefully,
From living coals and embers.
The fragrance smells of reverence,
For parents, and for Shabbos,
Of chesed flooding far beyond,
The corners of each harvest.
Kedoshim we are meant to be,
If realized, be not proud,
That gift has drifted down to us,
From the Kohen, in a cloud.
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