Bread and Wine

Track seven brings the framework to the Lord's table, and it does there exactly what What Plato Built did to the sanctuary floor. It clears away two costumes. On one side, the men who say the bread becomes His body when a priest speaks the word - a change they cannot see. On the other, the men who say the bread is nothing, just a symbol of a thought. The song's quarrel is that both are standing on the same cracked floor. The floor is Plato's stone, where matter has to become other to carry any glory home.

The chorus refuses both costumes with one plain line. Bread is bread. Wine is wine. The table does not need the elements to transform into something else, and it does not need them hollowed out into a bare memory. Plain elements, real feast in time. The matter does not have to be disowned or magicked to carry glory, because matter was never the problem - the Platonic floor was.

And the bridge does the floor swap. Swap the floor and watch the costumes fall - neither transubstantiation nor the empty memorial. What is the Supper, then? The marriage supper in disguise. The Author renders the feast that is coming into a frame we can walk through now, at lower resolution, on the same floor. The bread is bread, and it is also a real foretaste of a real wedding feast - and the meal already knows. Till He comes. Till He comes.