The Empty Field
Cheshvan, the only Hebrew month when there are no holidays, is a moment to meet the Divine in the everyday and the empty--and in the autumn field under the moon...
I stand in an empty field, full of echoes - the names
I call myself, the names everything I love
calls me, what we've whispered to each other.
When the One peeks through me,
all sounds merge with this Silence.
My love for a single leaf of grass,
touches, but cannot sooth, my ache for the One.
At every moment, in every place, this green muse sings
to the One within. But still, I brim with desire.
Sure, I see the universe in this blade's dewdrop.
But, look! The entire field bows with beads
of water, each throbbing with its own moon -
a thousand ungraspable moons, shimmers
dousing themselves in the one Moon
as I reach for them, while the Moon glows, yearning
for the one Sun. I drink each spark's dance,
and grow heavier as I plant my steps. How can I ever
stop worshipping all these keys to heaven?
Adam Lavitt is a poet currently residing in Jerusalem.
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