 |
| incensing the mind, one essence imperfectly perfect smell the attraction, the path into neither heaven nor hell, who can know it moving the wind, flowing with the flame eternal love and affection, some hovering quiet brilliance coming down, curling around into our dwelling here, behind closed doors just because, just because you can as the key calls, gates reverberate like betzalel and oholiav running and returning with the deep deep night guiding tarrying pilgrams to the thin place within the wall, rocking to the rhythm playing on the stairs in the dark leading like a line walking descending and ascending through the roofless unstable chamber and winding passages peregrinating into the heart of the mountain into the inmost room lit throughout with companions and tables and chairs and books of letters as we join together you've been waiting for us we hear |
| (C) Liorah Chanah Elishaba Tsabrah |