My heart pitters and patters,
while the glitter of the world subsides;
my desires shift to the transcendent,
as past and present collide.
The fireworks of yesteryear,
only a gleam in my mind’s eye;
the essential truths of my life sear
my conscience, and memory.
Called, to transcend the mundane,
wayward paths of my youth;
to let go of all done in vain,
while forging ahead in truth.
A smile brings comfort,
to every soul that yearns,
for the depth of spirit,
that like a flame will burn.
To write, or not to do so,
in ink, pixels, or pencil;
to express my views or not,
and risk being ostracized?
This climate of intolerance
sprung up as if overnight,
from an inflexible critique
of everything under the sun.
The seasons are changing
and the times are rearranging;
the values of the past have become,
like branches that must be pruned.
Yet, each time they grow anew,
they are trimmed back even further;
until, perhaps, nothing will be left,
except the barren trunk of a tree.
And, when that is reduced to nothing
except for a stump, planted firmly in the ground,
the seedlings will quietly sprout up elsewhere,
remaining hidden, until the light reappears.
Renewal is possible through teshuvah;
the past can be redeemed. Like flowers
that wilt in due time after blooming –
their beauty is not forgotten.
The Talmud goes so far as to say
that past sins can be changed into merits;
yet, this is purely figurative language,
that speaks of a profound change.
Like the metamorphosis
of a caterpillar into a butterfly;
the barren ground of the past,
may spring up anew.