Ruth (Seasons of Moab)

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

5 thoughts on “Ruth (Seasons of Moab)

  1. You must have an ancient muse aligned within your ancient soul, entwined within your hearts
    to write where one stays captivated till the date you end with at the end ( I wasn’t sure what the letters/characters were passed the date)…..and feels the power of energy you scribe with…
    This is a beautiful tale of the Seasons and their directions in four….
    Thank you for sharing….
    Take Care…You Matter…


  2. Thank you Maryrose for your kind words about my writing. Both my paternal and maternal grandparents were people of the earth, toiling in good-times and bad for their basic needs. On a summer evening more likely than not their cellar tops and porches were filled with wonderful stories, of life the land, and spirit. I believe it was there those many years ago I met my muse. Thank you, once again for your generous feedback. The letters at the end of my writing is my name in Hebrew.


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