HaShem's Voice in the Garden

Hear it

boom

Hear it cry

out

It is seeking

I am naked

I am afraid

Marred with anger

Beset by self-delusion

Dance this waltz

so often

it is like

a recollected dream.

Or merely a dream?

Of hiding

naked

bleeding

in

vines

of

thorns.

Is it all

Samsara

on fire escape

on the greenest day

of greenest month

when we've all been drinking for days

and the lighter

won't flip

and the cup

can't stay full

long enough

to be

properly useless.

Why does it call for me

Why do I hide

this shame

so plainly worn.

Is it enough to

believe you've heard

a voice in your garden.

Is it insane

to think

you have.

Is it all

in all

alone

but seeking

still

that which

can only find you

if you answer.

Or is it hiding still

behind

ephemeral

barriers

crumbling

under the weight

of life's

madness.