chagall-backdrop4.jpg

We only had words, no meaning,
long liturgical drones,
endless hours, sonorous
dirge-like ponders, attempts
to reveal the roiling core
of our humanity, of love as ground
for creation, essentially to invert,
to feel likewise on the inside,
overlooking already being
once removed from having once felt,
a mist on the face of the water.

© Chagall 2015

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