In this unparalleled universe<\/p>\n
Many voices talk all at once:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Master Mind talks deliberately,<\/p>\n
Enunciating every thought-out,<\/p>\n
Diamond-cut syllable with a rather<\/p>\n
Unsettling flare for the grammatic;<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Lady Heart talks passionately,<\/p>\n
Every word a fragile lucidity<\/p>\n
Straight from the glassblower\u2019s<\/p>\n
Furnace: beautiful to behold;<\/p>\n
Scalding to hold.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The unparalleled universe that is man \u2013<\/p>\n
Many different voices, with different<\/p>\n
Pitches, accents and languages, all<\/p>\n
Trying to get (if not the last)<\/p>\n
At least one word in edgewise.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Life is learning when to listen<\/p>\n
To which voice<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And when and which to ignore.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
But there are times when voices,<\/p>\n
Are at a loss for words: speechless,<\/p>\n
Shocked, tongue-tied and twisted,<\/p>\n
Fuddled and befuddled, dumb<\/p>\n
And dumbfounded<\/p>\n
Silent.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
It is these times, of complete joy<\/p>\n
Or complete pain, of utter happiness<\/p>\n
Or utter horror, that if a voice attempts<\/p>\n
To sound wise or articulate, instead<\/p>\n
Unleashes an insensitive barrage of<\/p>\n
Ink more barrier than language.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
There are times of such joy, and may they<\/p>\n
Be many, when even one letter of reinforced<\/p>\n
Steel would just melt in the heart of the sun;<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
There are times of such pain, and may they<\/p>\n
Be none, when even an entire library of kind<\/p>\n
Words would shatter in the shadow of heart-<\/p>\n
Break \u2013<\/p>\n
And it is this that begs the quest:<\/p>\n
If but no sense or sensation,<\/p>\n
No brilliance or strength,<\/p>\n
No voice can soothe such<\/p>\n
Hurt, how can one ever be<\/p>\n
Happy again?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
May it never be, but if one reach<\/p>\n
Such an impurity, a dead-end with<\/p>\n
No more turns altogether, the heart<\/p>\n
So used and the mind so abused that<\/p>\n
The voice is lost and forgotten, shushed,<\/p>\n
How can one ever find the way again, feel<\/p>\n
Life again, touch purity again, be innocent again?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Whoever touches the corpse\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Chalky lips hymning a requiem for an ode;<\/p>\n
Knees and ankles disjointed in a lifeless-march;<\/p>\n
Rot and decay creep along, circling like vultures<\/p>\n
A carcass. Death has laid its black lips upon a<\/p>\n
A silent heart.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
There are times of lifelessness:<\/p>\n
When the truth of our spirits<\/p>\n
Is buried by the<\/p>\n
Shovels of selfishness<\/p>\n
With the earths of animosity<\/p>\n
In the graves of loneliness<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Speechless, the voices no longer talk at all<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A red cow complete
\n<\/i><\/p>\n
Which has no blemish<\/i><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
O, but don\u2019t you know we are beyond, way<\/p>\n
Beyond these things, beyond voices, beyond<\/p>\n
Any impurity, a corpse may touch our bodies<\/p>\n
\u2013 after all they are of the same material \u2013<\/p>\n
But how can it ever touch our soul, our essence?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
This is the statute
\n<\/i><\/p>\n
Of the Torah\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A statute isn\u2019t about what our voices say,<\/p>\n
What our minds think or what our hearts<\/p>\n
Feel, a statute, a chok, is engraved in our souls<\/p>\n
For no reason other than<\/p>\n
Because the One who<\/p>\n
Created death also<\/p>\n
Created something<\/p>\n
Beyond<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The statute of the Torah \u2013<\/p>\n
The entire Torah:<\/p>\n
No matter what falseness we may touch,<\/p>\n
Where we may have been and what we<\/p>\n
May have done, somewhere there is a<\/p>\n
Red cow ready to bestow its ashes and<\/p>\n
Purity upon us \u2013<\/p>\n
It may sound fantastic, I know,<\/p>\n
But that\u2019s only because it is.<\/p>\n