by on December 23, 2008 :: 0 comments

Still life speaks to us. Yet we do not listen.

We wander across the human landscape,
oblivious of the secret universe. Still
life surrounds us, caresses our spirit,
and yet we do not see.

In the city, metaphysical objects with healing
scents are everywhere and reveal the hidden
universe. But we do not inhale their pure
odors. We sing the blues, swallow the
ubiquitous sadness and exhale rage.

Still life speaks to us. Yet we do not listen.

Drifting across the Waste Land, I leave my
urban companions behind. Alone, I descend
into Death Valley and breathe its dry, hot
vastness, the dark emptiness of the Void.

And yet, when I surrender to the circular silence
that engulfs me, I feel a divine presence. And I
listen to the still life in Death Valley.

What or who are they? I do not know. But now,
I see their invisible holy sparks and inhale the
celestial flow of the universe, merging with the
Ein Sof, the Ultimate Nothingness, the
Without End.

In a cosmic breath and kiss, I become one with
Hashem, my unknowable G-d of love.

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