How can I define this passion?
It s tempo and motion?
Its deep laments and pain?
It is something unspoken but felt,
Hidden but not-hidden- ‘’the Open Secret’’ says Rumi-
In the darkness I am lighted by it towards some oracle, some worthy and high
Pilgrimage, to Olympus or Delphi I do come.
My eyes are fixed upon something just beyond this horizon, some grave scene or word that is meant to ring out and grip me, to enthrall and burn to the very bone.
Where are the voices ? Coming down the mountainside and calling me to that ever-burning bush, that fiery tree on the gravelly slopes of Sinai? Why this sordid silence, this emptiness longing to be fulfilled ? The music of the soul is stilled right now. And I shed tears of separation.
How, then, shall I translate you, my Friend? My Beloved? How shall I interpret you , in some transcendent mode, bring down some epic code? How shall I address the people? How expound and enact some complex ritual of worship?
I leave now, then, towards a simplicity.
In my own reflection I see you. And that is all.
© 2016 Omer Tarin