A Kabbalah Story

“Everything comes from above, except our love”

She thinks that just maybe by changing her name, she’ll be something better, something better will stay. She’ll game all the games, a little bit more.  She’ll lose too much weight, until there’s no more.  When somethings less seen it’s hot her friends say, better not seen she’s hungry always. Well just the right face or just the right hair, a journey to somewhere, where someone will care. She listens to syllables to words that are said, we’ve all heard those consonants those verbs in our head. The game that she plays to pretend she’s not dead. Still all those same love tones, those ones that go by, the mere fleeting glances from empty blue skies. So upon a bare rock near Agnes Lake, the cold of the winter in sorrow she takes, one last look at heaven, the basest of skies, she cries out to Adonai, Hashem why is why?

“Everything comes from above, except our love”

Why can’t you say love you, why can’t you come down, compassion for emptiness, why can’t I be found? Why is there sweet rainbows some double in stride, but no pot of gold, why is it a lie, and where are the men you said would be my life, my daddy long gone, no husband for life. For thirty-four years upon earth I have tried, I’m barren in spirit, no more can I lie.

“Everything comes from above, except our love”

Oh silence, sweet silence, no word by and by, the frozen lake staring, the rocky crag nearby. She thinks to herself that it could be the time to fall to the weather, a dramatic goodbye. To be frozen solid, her breath seen for months, by high flying airplanes or angels or such. Why it could be that she is never found, that would be G-Ds payback, for not saying, not committing, not coming on down.

“Everything comes from above, except our love”

A pause of a second, above ice and cold, a woman’s reflection a thought does unfold. If little is given, how do you receive, if Adonai creates, what seed is belief, for light is an energy, that shows us to do, she thinks of what’s in her of what defines her mood. For love is the vessel, the harbor of life, the one thing that angels can’t maintain in rite. She see’s sudden answers from what, was once unknown, the light breaks the clouds, the wind chills to the bone. Oh silence, sweet silence, it ends now her day, she knows such a love for she gives it away, to Hashem, the light, the Ancient of Days, a beautiful ending to a once cloudy day. – 12.17.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

*Everything Comes from Above – Seth Breitman

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