“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.” –Albert Einstein
The ghost sum together in the thin early morning beam of light. Their spirits look like a sharpened sword streaking across the sky burying its point into the western red rock face of the canyon. Owls returning to their nest underneath the cliffs, circle the blade of light until it shows buried to its hilt, forming the brief illusion of a star of light.
On my knees,
In the canyon of the owls of purgatory, those that see what I cannot see. Comes the scepter reaching forward by the grace of what is she. Is your sun a path of mercy, cross those eastern skies it springs. Thus I pray, let me be silent, before your turning majesty. By thy quietness, in thy beauty, what must I see that you bequeathed? Is it something predatory wanting blood from me? Are you wisdom, are you creepy, do you celebrate disharmony? Are you like that old story from my childhood, thine is the glory, I a servant beneath thy feet? So here, I kneel feeling foolish in Owl Canyon, with a light that I see. Translucent inside of me.
On my knees,
In this canyon, there are lions, those that hunt incessantly. They are archetypes of the dragon when they run, their kill they see. Nevertheless, no lion do I see, no not nothing of a mission for me. What would you have me do, without a faith or knighthood? Should I pray thy angels down? With what would I speak, when I feel my soul has drowned? Underneath thy open skies, with what should I see? The best in this canyon I feel is an inner child of mediocrity. Adonai reverse this sight for me. It is so hard not to see. Impatience rules the man in me.
On my knees,
The rising sun gathers a thin cloud across its midriff, casting a long dark belt of a shadow across the western red rock face of the canyon. Above the dark division, the rocks glow red as if they are breathing fire. Below the shadow cast a prism of colors, as if a rainbow is cast upon the lower rim of the canyon wall. For all the lack of vision, for all the willingness to try, still I have been given a sign, a promise, and a knighthood.
On my feet,
In this still canyon, early spring light bathing me. “Adonai”, Thine the glory of my question, thine that is my destiny. “Adonai”, Thine the glory of my question, thine that is my destiny. In this still canyon, early spring light bathing me. – 03.28.2019 – דָּנִיֵּאל