Inertia

In the twilight of life,
at the turning point
upon the hill of habit,
shall I descend the other side,
or garner my wings and fly?

Having not remembered my Creator,

until the days of my youth were past,

I am caught midway in the flight of fancy

by a torrent of wind that creates resistance

to change, even for the betterment of my soul,

as I make an effort everyday to find my way.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Teshuvah, the all embracing, ever pervasive remedy

seems sometimes so far out of my reach,

and unless I gather my strengths together,

to teach myself how to fly,

I will reside in the shadows of my past,

consumed by regret, plagued by unrealized dreams,

crushed by the heaviness of being,

and defeated by the lethargy of inactivity.

Ordinariness

Ordinariness is plain and simple, calm and pleasant, placid and unperturbable. “If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there; if I make my bed in hell, thou art there” (Psalm 139:8). Yet, when I take a walk around the block to get some fresh air, and clear my thoughts, it seems like within the ordinariness, G-d is present everywhere.

Renewal

Is the past beyond redemption?
Can not the truth be retrieved
from amidst this disorderly pile
of worn out tattered journals?

The dust that has collected,
must be sifted out from amongst
these scattered pages, uncategorized;
yet, containing the codes of my life.

A life, previously unraveled,
like nucleotides rearranged on a double helix,
twisting and turning along an invisible axis
of the original blueprint of life.

In the distance – a light –
that bears witness to the tragic notes,
sounded out throughout an endeavor
to peer through the darkness.

In time, the dust becomes
visible to the eye of the soul,
when the first ray of dawn,
shines through the window.

Every particle, suspended in the air,
for a brief moment, before settling
down on the floor, vanishes from sight,
like the bioluminescence of fireflies.

Renewal

Can the past be redeemed?
Can the truth be retrieved
from amidst this pile
of tattered journals?

The dust that has collected,
must be sifted out from amongst
these scattered pages, uncategorized;
yet, containing the codes of a life

previously unravelled,
like nucleotides rearranged on a double helix,
twisting and turning along an invisible axis
of the original blueprint of life.

In the distance – a light –
bearing witness, to the tragic notes,
played throughout an endeavor
to peer through the darkness.

The dust is made visible
to the eye of the soul,
while the first ray of dawn,
shines through the window.

Every particle, suspended in the air,
for a brief moment, before settling,
on the floor, vanishing from sight,
like the incandescence of fireflies.