Shiva

prolonged without closed doors

everything exposed now,

Life’s spilling its possibilities now

glimpsed just this once

until the next movement begins,

as each subsequent passes, unfolds

(the struggle it is…

appreciating and surviving the All,

acknowledging what must be ritualized,

the bitter and sweeter fruit passed on,

ripe from the Talmudic Traditions of a People,

the wine of centuries shared by prayers and pouring)

today completes one man’s cycle,

born into,

and born into again,

all the Energies,

the Death,

the Life, becoming

and he passed unsure of this progression

yet intuitively recognizing the direction of the flow,

and as rivers build oceans,

he is now an Ocean

branching from everything,

touching everywhere

then on this day of Renewal,

a picture of his three-day eternity fills my heart,

my heart-his heart,

one immersing itself into polyrhythms

that the other has now been emptied of,

our same hearts pondering eternity

until reaching the abyss of this present,

resolving those pains that mattered,

focusing solely on the ride

revisiting sixty-five sunsets

thus the first day unveils,

a Saturday of hope,

the miracle of Shabbat,

the Blessing holding

Sunshine of rebirth

the second is a Sunday trial,

the holding back of tears

swallowing some scrutiny of Death,

a naked day

painful in preparedness,

demanding every nth of Energy a man might conjure up,

bracing internal flood gates to keep the city breathing

throughout this mortal struggle

so until the third day,

the first day of Eternity,

my Father now grasps it all

and lets go of it all,

the forces,

all of them,

whether inside or the external

no matter,

for Life to Death to Life

is never more certain or more perfect

on this third day of Passing

yes Albert,

man of humble skies,

I appreciate you at last,

a bountiful man trapped inside some poor excuse for this glass bubble

labeled "the world"

and now these three days have consummated,

again with the sweetness of Time,

and we strivers,

your survivors,

God’s Ocean Floaters,

sit pensively on these solid oak benches

filled with all that you earnestly have taught us

then today I sing praises of your Goodness,

O wide open Song of Always,

Avraham,

my Father!

5/28/73

Paterson