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I see it this way: there are three animals 
within one. And three ages of each 
animal. And they are all the Lamb.

The first age, I am sure there 
is a little boy. This little boy is a Being 
greater than anything you may think.
He is playful, and kind. And he is
some small Jew of Nazareth! Now,
I think they call him Rex Iudaeorum.
he says that he likes to play with
the small sheep; and he says that
he likes to skip small stones across
the large, deep, wide waters. This 
is the animal of the Lamb, as I am
sure you understand. His nature is
revelatory, 
			and his seals are sacred.
They are given a Roman sancrosanctitas
—not that it matters to God anyway
	(Is Joseph not His Father?)
He holds in his carpenter-worn hands,
yet still oddly soft, like the touch of
a beautiful woman; a papyrus scroll,
it was authored to a person proper.
—you are not worthy to read it. 

The second age, I am sure there
is a dying man. This dying man is a Being
greater than anything you may think.
He is torn, and weary, and martyred. And
he is some poor Jew of Jerusalem! Now
I shall call him King of Fools. He says
		that he thirsts; 
and he says that his limbs are
stretched over the rough, splintered,
and large			wood. 
This is the animal of the Ram, as I am
sure you understand. His nature is
sacrificial, and his wounds are holy. 
They are given a Roman spear-point,
—not that it matters to God anyway
	(who is He, if not That?)
He holds in his blood-caked hands,
those which are still strangely soft,
like the touch of a grieving Mother,
a crown of peppered thorns. It was
woven to a person proper.
—you are not worthy to wear it.

The third age, I am sure there
is a rising God. This God is a Being
greater than anything you may think. 
He is light, eternal, and new. And
he is some strange Jew of eternity! Now
I think they call him, Pantokrator. So
I shall chant: 	            Pantokrator
   (such is the                  Pantokrator
	second		            Pantokrator
	coming)	 
			And he says that he
is Life; and he says that his feet
are longer pinned to the great, dark,
brittle cross. This the animal of the
Lion, as I am sure you understand. His
nature is Glorious; his voice is Thunder.
It is given a	 	Lord's 		proclamation.
—not that it matters to God anyway.
He holds in his beautifully radiant
hands, yet still suitably soft, like
the touch of an old friend, the keys
of Death, like the touch of a 
		lover, 
the keys of Life. They were taken from
a person proper. 
—you are not worthy to keep them.
				(yet you shall receive them)
And such is Your greatest gift…
And the Lamb says, “I am within You,” 
				for 			you 		are him.