Authors Note: I have only asked this before, once. If you start the unbelievable music below by Philip Glass, before you read, that which is sewn together by mystery and the sirens gasp. If that you start before you read “by the hours” then you too, will know, you will know!
“Every extraordinary occurrence unsettles the heads of hundreds of thousands of men for a few moments or hours or days.” – Mark Twain
By the hours when the flesh dies to knowledge, hands so carefully placed to feel, transferring faith on cold stones of remembering only good thoughts, while some are still sealed. In the dark here a boy on stone so cold, I see them move. Oh, they transfuse. In the dark, keepers are sleeping, staying quietly, air up above, angels of “El” meet phantoms of love. By the hours, when equity meets love, thought is, thinking thought is! And it meets conditions, hallelujah, alleluia, and all is thought, by the hours, as Samael moves in notes, by stanzas look around, behind you with such a spirit, does that feeling move, is it without a sound. Oh, you will see even while the day comes, the next day, with tides, decreed by G_D she moves. And the times by numbers, for you who can see, beyond me, the picture is all beyond me, for I am everything, I am nothing, by the hours, oh spirit that dwells so ingrained in all that is you, that which is strange, not by man, your eternal light unto me.
By the hours, great seconds, by the clocks man made, under nourished man, oh knowledge, you cannot fathom, where great giants do lay. A quiet space, beyond the sun’s rays, when air is suspended, upon the grave. Oh, perpetual feeling, all that, that is against nothing, the final escape. Into thy places, the dare that goes alone, and I without known beauty, into your secrets there my so long forsaken grave, that great kingdom, next to your seraphim, by the hours in their mystery I find my home. Such is this place, I have never known. A wonder still I must know.
By the hours in language, unspoken, but yet still alone, where phantoms, bestow wisdom, they give unto others, now unto me it’s finally shown. And this in life is mystery, as in death it is by angels bemoaned, that earth in her time is a beauty, as in your breath, all wonder bestowed, and by the hours there are favors, that each second this gift is grown. For G_D does not judge that which is compassion, that given, that by the hours which you do own! In life do not let it go, for in death, by the hours, you will not ever go! You will not ever go! – 07.23.2017 – דָּנִיֵּאל