My window was so clear
It made the view scintillate So that the dynamics of the inner law Began more clearly to resonate. I hid in a soft sweet shadow. The soccer field, the children racing, Reflected a light that could not become solid But as they ran, it too ran, pacing. That light was my fruit I remembered my sweet sorrow I turned in a room Where the beams of time from yesterday to tomorrow Gave me the cells of my days. But the light within me me burned Beyond boundaries And my feet upon the kitchen tiles turned.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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October 2019
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