9 adar 3

True that the mists unite & bring forth blessing.

How awesome, that of the most intangible material,

Is the life force for all that is physical,

 Of that which has no shape, is the blood of all growth.

Growth of vegetation, growth of desire,

Growth of life, growth of love.

And what, pray tell, makes up this blue-ish life syrup?

But air, air, $ a little drop of air.

From absolute nothingness comes forth all life.

Life. Life connotes movement.

 But does this wellspring of fluidity really move on its own?

No! without wind, without the current,

It would be as still as glass, just a reflection;

Rather than changing the course of the earth.

  But it is specifically this, which all elements must unite for to create the wind, that fluid movement of which defines life.

Water. Eemingly intangible. Clear. Made from the nothingness of air,

With the balancing act of the 4 essential ingredients, of which spark life on our lone gem of our galaxy.

Tis in this that we have insight as to how the Master Architect, the Ringmaster of the circus we’ve dubbed “universe”, the Author of the tale called “life”, how, just how all of this façade of self- sustainment could be so sustained by the nothingness, the “ayin”, the emptiness of which is all just apart a piece, an emanation of…. Him.

9 adar 2

I’m so happy being lost.

I smile in the dark rainy night.

Why are my 4 amos zoned off from getting too close?

Why don’t I have any control of anything past macshava?

& even there I’m lost in a labyrinth of foreign imagery,

Most of which are from the empty souls & minds of the “entertainment” industry,

Of which I have plunged my psyche into. 

9 adar 5770 #1

9 adar 5770:

Her unseen face constantly haunting me,

Ever evading the corners of my dreams,

Those I’ve met whom I doubted to be her,

Whom had potentials of her strength,

Have only served for my self -destructive self.

To see her face, to hold her close,

This reminds me of her maker,

Reminds me why I’m here.

Reminds me who put her face in my imagination.

These words I scribble now,

Are only a further distraction,

To the truth i should be seeking.

The truth I should be revealing.

The light & life I, as a chayal,

Should be bringing to this dark corner,

Of cold cellar stone.

My head, frozen in a solid wall,

Unable to “compute”,

 to process the simplest of emotions.

To be able to find the drive to move,

To fight,

To want to breathe.

My will not to be angry is so strong, my body translates & transforms that fire into water & stone.

The expression: “’would’ve been better had man not been created, but now that he has….”

Was coined for me.

Am I so selfish/ foolish to think that a maamer chazal was formed for me? Yes. But I must correct this foolish notion none the less. 

knowing truth

7^th night chanuka

Dec. 7 2010

30^th kislev 5771:

Why?

From where does this fire arise?

How does the gremlin of desire so easily transform into that of self -righteousness & bigotry?

 All I ever seem to do is question,

 Answers seem to be far from my tongue…..

This is the jewish complex perhaps…

Awareness that the human mind is not capable of knowing Emes as it is,

But only as we perceive it…

A human mind skews…

In cloth of darkness lies the thread of light….

a falls feeling..

13 teves 5770

Dec 30, 2009:

Skin dries up, Leaves flake away,

The ink may fade, and the words be blurred,

Fruit may die, & petals turn gray,

But in all the darkness we are assured,

Any promise or oath,

Of good tidings or blessings

Will come to fruition,

& Nay to the second guessing.

All the lies of Mother nature

All her facades & misgivings,

Are but a test of our faith

In whose kind word, is everlasting.

When our eyes begin to pale,

Our skin fails to stretch,

Remember the words

Of His answers to our kvetch…..

Adam b’dmus elokim oso.

a low realization..

Dec 31, 2009

14 teves 5770:

As my energy,

Suicidal, I become.

The knife to my neck,

 Or the feel of a gun,

 is the feeling of release of a thousand emotions.

 The rose in my heart

A magical potion

 Bubbling & bursting through my veins,

It’s ALL an idolatry

Of the idol called pain. 

for a loved one lost...

19 teves:

Death’s dew drips off her lips, as her last breath escapes.

 Her reflection fades, the lack of her roar deafens as I cry oceans in the wake of her passing.

As her candle flickers out,

& her flame soars,

Finally free of its earthly shackles;

I should be rejoicing over her breacking of bondage,

I ought to be smiling for her rediscovered light.

But I weep, sob & wail like a spoiled prince,

Only selfishly feeling the hole in MY world,

The fresh void, that rips through my heart & soul, like one.

I’m blinded by the mountains of grief in my path,

The falsity of this realm,

All the more real to me.

Yet,

I find my voice,

my voice to acknowledge

, my voice of tranquility,

A voice which is not really mine at all,

Rather a voice embodied by the pain of millions of tears from a Father,

Now reunited with His daughter

Whilst all the while feeling the pain of those who lost her.

With this cry, with this shout, I solemnly utter & declare “Yisgadal V’yiskadesh…..”