Ruth of the spring, walking in fields infinity loose it’s a factor, nobody knows, what dogma she brings, she looks to the moon her benefactor. She sings, through the silt, she walks in the high grass, the stars closing in as dawn grows light dim, and then like she knew, her dark hair takes hue, and falls on her naked shoulders. Sapphire it glows in the field of rows, filled with red clover, her scent forever he’s after. What wisdom Ruth brings as light fills the king, Ein Sof an element forever. You turn oh my love, I haven’t seen all, and my shadow would fall for your laughter. Ruth I came down, in modern, fast sounds, and nothing could hold me forever, ask wisdom if spring, can grant you great things your line some will sing thereafter.
She passes a field and walks by a stream, she enters the summer of full moons and dreams. Ruth prays from her womb, she see’s many things, she looks to the sky, while katydids sing. Then under a moon, while sheaves bend and woo, and spirits come down, the handmaid turns round. She dances for lightning under the sky, moves her hips, wonderfully for heaven and sighs, and El he came down, and whispers love found, and all Moab, dwells in her rapture. Her harvest is sun, her life is spun, and children they come under the moon and in laughter.
Adonai, sighs and fly’s from the sky, while autumn brings moons that light her thighs, and all in the field is happy and still, while Ruth spins love from dark tatters. She speaks without sound, a craft few have found, a life that glows without character. Distilled, and matured, from spirit she coo’s and harvest in fall, a field brings total together. What, now strange queen, Shaddai’s wing, it tills deep, and births what won’t shatter. In Moab it’s time, own your design, a woman like none ever after.
Ruth of the winter, not bent, or with shiver, the field frozen ground, but still life comes down, and her white hair falls, her curved smile is all, that Hashem will deliver. In spirit and ice, a frozen rain comes, and Moab bends ground, judgment is bound, by tundra that’s still a place of her heart, remembered. Did not Ruth in spring say, unselfishly, it is not my heart but your will in mine to surrender. She is like a servant that warms fallen snow, her beauty and body makes heaven glow, and Moab beneath her, while Tiferet flows, and all in the field ready’s to sow, once here after.
You turn oh my love, I haven’t seen all, and my shadow would fall for your laughter. – 09.18.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל