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Until

a torah scroll is open on a table covered in red velvet the adornments of the torah are scattered around it and in the background we see people covered in tallit
From Hands She was delivered
with arms She was received.
 
 
Bejeweled crown removed,
yet never cast aside.
Gently laid down 
in tenderness, disrobed.
The desire to be known 
arching toward the desire to know.
Her branches, unfurled,
with parchment legs opened
yad, caressing wide.
Giver, 
receiver, 
conjoined in coaxing
Her mysteries 
ever renewed 
yet, still to be revealed.
 
Tree of Life.
Etz haHayim.
 
In the middle of Her heartwood,
Her heart:
Tiferet.
 
In the center of Tiferet
Aleph:
The silence.
 
Brushing against the core of all that is silent 
coursing between sanctified, 
healing notes,
breathed in perfect harmonies 
on high,
for six days,
one broken letter,  
found in The Name.
 
Hei
comes whispered in low tones 
heard best by a Mother,
near-by,
and all around,
the Immanent:
Shekhina
 
Cradled in this World, 
the Kingdom, Malkhut,
all organs, 
mitzvot
Rukhama’s blessed fruit.
Revolving, 
evolving, 
cycles of 7
and 7 times 7,
and 7 times 7 times 7,
all good acts of this co-creation 
bound together 
in cords of compassion
until all is rendered whole,
all worlds restored,
all time replete:
Until this birthing
in splendid glory,
arrives fulfilled,
alights complete.
 

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