clean sweepers and packrats

We oscillate between two contrary impulses in our inward, spiritual spaces.  Sometimes we are Moses, come down from the mountain, pulverizing the golden calf: we seek the One that is True by casting out all else.  But then sometimes we are Noah.  Yes, drawn by something singular, if but a singular uncertainty, and collecting a couple of everything into inward keeps, and maybe more than a couple of anything that seems plausibly holy.