Strings of the Moon
God's fingers make music on the strings of the moon
His touch makes mellifluous stacte music on the keys of starlight
The sun is a cowboy in the desert winds of emptiness
Straggler souls accompany it to the edge of time
Wash the feet of cripples
Kiss the rings of social lepers
The Messiah's tiffilin are invisible to you
Anoint your eyes with salve of hyssop and ash from long ago
Turn the tables on the Mammon myriads
Heal yourself with the tinctures of Israel
Cleanse the temple of your salty, goatish heart
Let it fly as smoke over the edge of time
Return then to that moment on the ninth of Av
Listen to God's fingers play lamentations on the strings of the moon
Listen to Him play the kaddish dirge on the piano of the night
Hear, oh Israel, in the kaddish the prelude of joy glowing
Listen with a new effervescent soul
You, Israel, are the keys of the piano of the night
You are the strings of the moon