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A poem by Shachar Efrati
Between You and The Source
Between creating and pretending
Lies a profound divide,
When the one can't decide
The other is continually descending
Into their fears and memories
To pull out embers of sincerity.
Sometime or another we're both,
Neither more nor less true,
Dying as we give birth to a new day,
Having lost another breath along the way, whether it be worth a thought ot not,
Is not a reason to be sought,
But perhaps in the meditation
Before the setting sun
As color fills the sky
You might see your true self before you die.
True in vulnerability
True in prowess
True in magnitude and magnificence,
True in repulsion
True in your skin,
Owning your origin,
True in shadow and mirror
And in the twilight of your soul
Deep within this flashing light,
This quick flick of existence
That plays out like an endless masquerade,
Yet so preciously slight,
Like the desert scent of summer sage
That rises to the sun before
Returning to the source.
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