Me – the muse
His words are oxygen to a dying fire.
His voice is remedy to an ailing heart.
Yet his love is torture to a longing soul,
And his answers are questions to a puzzled mind.
How can medicine be so fatal?
And love be such torment?
And why today and not tomorrow,
And why tomorrow and not yesterday?
If only at dawn not at sunset,
And if only a sun and not a moon.
If only flesh instead of spirit,
O if only yesterday instead of tomorrow.
Why yesterday, or today, or tomorrow?!
Why not without time, out of time…
Where there is no end and no beginning,
Simply endless… like her love…
Where there is neither fear nor limit
To the divine kisses disguised in words.
If only I could feel the words and touch her fingers…
I would kiss them, all together,
Or one by one for they wrote the words,
And touched the Paints,
And stroked my book,
And caressed my soul.
If only I could touch her fingers,
I would turn them into my green, red, yellow, blue, lilac and white
So that they could write my poetry and spell my words.
So that I could kiss her fingers through the words.
I will pray that my fingers are flooded with ink,
So that I can eternally write your poetry, write your words,
So that you can kiss my fingers through the words,
One by one … and all together…
I will pray that your sun eternally shines,
And penetrates its fire into my spirit,
And infiltrates its rays into the deepest corners of my soul,
With radiance made of poetry, of words, and of tender kisses.
I will pray for a land beyond lands,
Beyond borders, and beyond skies.
A place where there is neither time nor season,
Where every day is a new spring,
Where every seed can bloom into red roses, purple lilacs and white
Made of poetry, of words, and of colourful kisses.
Forgive me, my beloved, for not being born 34 years later,
Thirty four years after my birth,
To prepare this earth for your feet.
Forgive me for not being capable of making its roads of roses and its lands
Forgive me for not knowing how to keep its skies free of war birds,
And its planes free of war machines.
Forgive me for not making its flocks of clouds and its soil of fertile gold.
Forgive me, and forgive me, for not conceiving more colors than what you see.
Colors that change as your eyes turn to delight in another,
So that they are as pure as a virgin when your eyes visit them once
So that things are never repeated but always new.
So that there is an eternal youth instead of old age.
So that there is always an undying birth.
A thousand and one apologies for not waiting for you.
A thousand and one apologies for being tempted, for falling for life,
Thirty four years ahead of time.
My apologies, and endless apologies, for beginning my life without you,
When you were still in a different form than mine,
When you were still words, poetry, music,
Colors, stars, moons, skies,
An eternal goodness and an endless love.
Can you ask your thirty four years and thirty four?
For wisdom and for answers.
Ask each wrinkle and all the white hairs,
Ask them for opinion and for advice.
Ask them if they know of an herb of eternal youth that we may find
Hidden in a corner behind time and years,
Or perhaps for the spring of holy water,
So that we may drink and be born again.
Ask them if they can add another thirty four years to my life,
So that I am born again with you,
Thirty four years before my time,
In another world and another life,
In a place where there is no end and no beginning,
Where life is an eternal youth and an undying birth.
In a place where poetry is the only language,
And where peace is without an antonym,
And where love has a million and one synonyms,
And where spring is the only season,
And where stars are the secret meeting places,
For lovers to exchange words and kisses.
Ask the years, the wrinkles and all the white hairs,
Ask them to have mercy on my heart.
O, my beloved..! Don’t look at my white hair.
For its color was not faded by the number of years,
But washed out by the dew of the dawns.
I asked them…
I asked the white hairs, the wrinkles, and the years.
I asked them for answers and for wisdom.
And if I can encapsulate all their words into one word, it would be:
If I could use two words, they would be: “I Love,”
And if I could use three words, they would be, “I Love You.”
My beloved… We don’t have to travel to the stars far in the
But, instead, we can dive deep within ourselves,
To the deepest of places, remote and un-treaded,
Places I have already visited many times before you,
Looking for the place worthy of your feet.
And I have found it,
A place that is no place,
With neither a beginning nor an end.
I searched and searched,
In the most hidden of places,
Until I became as thin as the sphere.
I came across all the human suffering on the river of life,
A river that journeys the universe
With its water made of tears, sweat, and blood.
A river that has been since the murder of Cane.
On the river,
Time was our ship,
And the wind our longing.
Everyone was busy trying to survive.
Others laughing, crying, killing, nursing,
All busy making their way in life and not seeing what they are after.
They all sought the Promise Land that was on both sides of the river.
I thought of you far behind me and ahead of me,
I jumped off,
Out of time,
And hung on a tree branch by one hand,
And waited for you,
To hold onto you with my other hand.
And I waited, thirty four years for you to arrive.
My longing for you wiped away my fatigue,
I saw you coming with a sadness,
A sadness for the thirty four years you spent without me,
For the thirty four years you were alone looking for me.
And, unexpectedly, you felt my hand holding onto yours from no place,
Snatching you out of time,
To be with me,
To rest under the shade of the tree.
And we reminisced journeying back to the beginning,
To the time before we were chased out,
Before the beginning of the time.
To the time when I slept alone under the shade,
Only to wake up to with a missing rib,
And to find you a woman next to me,
Another parallel body,
A body to embrace, to kiss, to smell, to caress.
A body for my fingers to play a soft melody on its musical keys,
A body for my lips to suck its nectar.
A body that intoxicates me with no wine.
A body that I sailed like the sea,
In its ebb and flow,
Lingering my journey
To the Island of Nirvana.
Then, I slept and did not sleep,
And woke up, alone,
Looking for you, trying to find you,
While the serpent was dancing to the divine music.
This is a part that I have to work on…
I felt something new within myself.
I counted my ribs to find that you are back,
That we are back in our Eden
We are back in each other’s eternal embrace,
Eternal life and eternal love.
This is a small representation of the high-quality writings you’ll find in every issue of TIFERET.
We receive no outside funding and rely on digital issues, workshop fees, and donations to publish. If you enjoy our journal’s verbal and visual offerings, we hope you’ll consider supporting us in one of these ways.Click Here to Purchase Digital Issues