Olam Haba.

I.

The angels visit leaving behind no footprints:

Their paths cannot be followed.

The path to liberation is the path of thyself.

They who utter their unique voice

set their sails to the silent wind.

 

II.

 

O my sad heart, the geometry of my dreams, like

the patterns of a rose roaming the skeleton cites

in unbodied flesh. The divine babbling of my heart! The stone green

galleries of my deepest wounds burn like saintly wreaths---I saw the

Devils of my mind sleeping in the cracks of my tears. The lava of my throat

sets my words on fire and the sun rose upon the tip of my tongue.

 

The earth dissolves--- I am here.

The enlightened source: The beloved.

I see the eye of the eternal sun, dark with

the wisdom of night.

 

Love echoed out like a great mystery--- Virgin snow fell from

the whorish clouds and like a lilac I opened my heart to the birth of

the new sky!