Scent
Upon the evening air,
from my place in the garden,
a fragrance brushes past my tear stained face.
I know it is meant to comfort me.
But it only deepens my sorrow.
It is the fragrance of Moshiach that travels to me,
breaking my heart with longing.
The wind that blows through his garments
carried by beings of one purpose,
wafts over my soul and almost unmakes me.
Why do you tarry my teacher?
The scent of spices and fruits mingled with essences
that only exist in other realms
pulls at my innermost being.
I am not so hard to convince, my king
I will go wherever you tell me.
But do not taunt me by calling my name.
Where will I find you?
What kind of journey must I undertake?
No,
no.
You must come to me.
Teach me,
Show me.
Let me hear the hidden words of Torah.
Speak Sod* to me all day long,
Until I see the throne of God.
*Sod (pronounced "sewed") The most mystical level of understanding Torah.