For below me on this mountain, there is a charm, and it knows me, by my sacred name, by my secret name it knows me, and now it loves me, oh how it loves me, in magic it resurrects me. In eternal letters it speaks me.
Resurrection comes in parts, it breathes in pain, it comes in dreams, revealed when nothing else will start. Rising, fulfilling, like a daemon it titillates then comes screaming from the dusk, of what was left in my devil filled heart. Barren oh barren, this broken mind so filled with as many broken parts. Razed, these bones, my white, white bones, nothing left so tossed about, ignored by your light when it would roam.
Resurrection it comes in minor keys. Those long dead scenes, when all is silent, mocking emptiness, that’s when there’s wind that blows on through. Life from the undead, needing spirit, for blood is common, so common, and only breath will do. And it seemed such a little place, I decided to die, such a bitter, lonely, single space, but still filled with pride. For it would not be by my own hand, by dusk my own demise, oh such a drama I thought it true, by G-D’s own will denied. But then thought came in such surprise.
It was upon the mountain, oh my, I think you rolled yourself across my skin. Such a sweet breeze, oh EL, that part of my name, that syllable of fresh fantasy. Adonai, there you are, air upon my flesh, resurrection upon the eastern fire filled sky. And I’m alive immortal in your timeless wind. For below me on this mountain, there is a charm, and it knows me, by my sacred name, by my secret name it knows me, and now it loves me, oh how it loves me, in magic it resurrects me. In eternal letters it speaks me.
Resurrection is not dusk, morning light, or sexual touch. It brings itself if destiny wills, upon G-D’s love or maybe whats real. And I don’t know, why it sought me, alone, inhuman, dark by need, but that could be it, thats a clue. Maybe a divination on the mountain where I stood. Maybe lonliness, maybe because I thought I could. For to understand spirit, of the ruach, by his touch, is to rise in air, on this world, immortal, and touch the fine lines of the face of G-D. – 09.30.2016-
דָּנִיֵּאל
Daniel Swearingen 
Beautiful!!!
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Thank you Ruby.
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Your very welcome. I am so blown away by your writing!
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This is written like a victory celebration for your soul and it is marvelous. ❤
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I love that desciption. Thank you Heather. 🙂
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Just keep em coming! I love them each one!
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when I read this I was astonished at the rawness of the spiritual emotion you presented. I love your picture, it goes with your story!
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Thank you for a wonderful compliment.
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Anytime, keep writing and I will keep reading! 😉
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This is my favorite. You write so well.
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Thank you Jane.
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Daniel, I love this. Shabbat Shalom! ❤ ❤ ❤
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Thank you Karen. Shana tova. 🙂
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Your welcome.
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So much of what you write touches me. This especially so. Thank you.
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Thanks so much Tabitha for your kind words. I am happy this touched you.
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Your soul searching and victory, make for a marvelous read. Keep up the wonderful work!
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Thank you Ruthann.
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I remember so well your sorrow filled “Dusk”. It is so wonderful to read of your “Resurrection”. A wonderful piece of prose. 🙂
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Thank you Charlie.
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Fantastic writing Daniel!
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Thanks so much Alex.
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Amen, my brother. Amen!
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Birds of a feather and all that Jen. Thank you my sister. L’shanah tovah to you and yours.
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L’shanah tovah to your family as well!
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Beauty in death, solace in nature, Hugs my friend.
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Thank you Jenny. The best is yet to come. 🙂
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Well done, Daniel! EL! Death seems a fantasy, even though it is the ultimate reality.
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Couldn’t agree more Resa. Thank you.
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