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| an enigma, an absurdity stringing some strange emptiness, a holy madness bursting full unfolding favor like a parchment endlessly, darkly brilliant surely able, between nothing and one, a no-man's land is the palace of a female mystic mansion, where only night senses one mind effacing piles and piles of chaos softly upon which this breathes that through and through, collapsing eternally into an ever reverberating lifeforce hovering plosive pivots of unuttered tradition set free drunk without distinction, some wine of the timeless time to come a martial art, utter clarity running and returning, iterating feminine mystery communicating all goodness, like a key ever beyond sound, yet still peacefully permeating script the essential mark, above without end, below without bound answering every prayer |
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| (C) Liorah Chanah Elishaba Tsabrah |