My hands long for what mind cannot breach.
My own intellect rages and roars,
Lonely dogs in a cage made for rats.
Why must you make finding you such a chase?
You who are Spirit and Body, Mind,
Three in one,
Me like you.
Split every atom that makes me,
And then maybe I could feel your energy.
For you are fire, smoke, and death.
Fire to Moses,
Smoke to his children,
Death to his body.
If I strike the rock in my anger
Will you kill me too?
What grace is left for those
Who have struck every rock?
When the rocks had all been struck
And water remained a vapor in the air,
I struck the air,
Struck the wind,
Struck the very breath of my neighbor.
His skin did not bleed,
So why did yours?
How I long to drink from the fountain
Within your depths.
Need I strike you to receive it?
Does the same act that gives me life
Here and now
Leave my body in the desert,
Far from the land of promise?
The manna you have given me
Has only increased my thirst.
Truly, you have been my food,
But where is the drink?
I am not asking for wine,
I need only River.
Are you the promised fountain,
Or should I look for another?
For I thirst with parched lips
And stammering tongue,
Desperate for the cool of your touch.
I have slaughtered the ram,
Their blood stains my clothes,
Stains my skin.
Fire has not fallen.
Are you the great Consuming One?
Or is your fire meant for light,
And not for sacrifice?
Have I climbed this mountain in vain,
Stacked the wood in vain,
Offered my prayers in vain?
Yet this I have as hope: the mystery of life birthed from a barren womb.
So I will wait.
But why did Moses die in the wilderness?