God who brings evenings,
You are the Master of transitions
the Artist of Ma’avarim,
and we, Your people, we are called Ivrim,
those who pass from one place to the next,
who travel to the edge
who seek You in the in-between,
We and You, forever becoming,
rolling dusk into twilight
and darkness into dawn.
As you preside over time
the sun rises up and bows low,
the moon stretches out and curls in,
our bodies wax and wane.
Everything is on the move.
Particles flip and twirl.
Light floods in and fades away.
You offer us sparks of holy
time, soul and space.
When Shabbat comes in stillness,
We are whole.
We are here.
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