Mystical Notebook
The white, blue-ruled, numbered pages of my notebook
Are Dead Sea Scrolls made of papyrus,
Like those found rolled up in clay pots, in Qumran caves,
Where the ancient Essenes enclaved,
Studied, worshiped, and prayed for their safety from evil.
My notebook's pages are perpetual flames,
Like those ignited atop Sinai, which Moses ascended,
When beckoned, by YHWH, to accept His Ten Commandments,
Reckon with his disrespectful followers,
Persuade them to eschew their graven idols, for His Oneness.
The unknowable prophecies embedded in my notebook's soul
Are like those envisioned by Joseph, Maimonides,
Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, David Ben-Gurion.
They beg me to keep the Abrahamic faith,
During these days of assimilation, secularization, atheism.
But being just a poet who totes around a notebook,
Rather than a Torah, a Talmud, a cabala,
I do what I can, with every breath on my parchment's flames,
To renew the Word of God,
Letter by syllable, cadence by rhyme by line, poem by tome.
01/23/09 - (2)
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