The milky way is not enough,
the star-stream tapped from leaf veins,
the indefatigable chloroplast,
the hidden factory of golden nectar in loam,
photons immolated in sacrifice
to mold your bronze nakedness –
still, not enough, not enough light!
The sun does all she can, the moon
dips cup fulls from her dark mysterious cellar,
pours sparkling stuff into the lips of Spring cloud.
Winter makes prisms of remembered splendor,
galaxies of roses imprisoned in a snow crystal.
But all this in-pouring is not enough,
this shoring up of light in you,
the radiance pooled and nuggeted
in protons of flesh, the beam of your soul
undrawn from its scabbard of loneliness.
Light Hoarder, sheathed, un-shining,
you darken the universe!
Friend, haven’t you treasured this fire
too long? Now spend it, waste it,
irradiate everything seen!
Be the Outpouring, bright warm
wounded glory gushing
from the hidden well where stars are born,
coiled down in your tap root, your
Open it. Wound it wider.
This is a small representation of the high-quality writings you’ll find in every issue of TIFERET.
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