The world sleepeth, not I
whose rest flees when I hear the yearning cry
Like the wailing knell in the churchyard
...and Bezaleel the son of Uri within comes alive.
He teacheth my fingers to weave
Worlds bygone and coming on leaves.
I sail wherever with my disguised sceptre.
Returning with a thousand ethereal sheaves.
O Prisoner behind the bars of my soul
What gainest thee so
That thy errands hath made of me
A mortal never my dreams told?
What meanest this quest my pen doth run
Like a thirsty hart after a pond?
Night after night springs this strange lust
And every adventure is a mystery born.
The clamour of thy fiery harp
Charms my heart like honey drops
I yield as a man to the snare of a seductress
I lay my seven locks on thy laps.
It is now I who stands obsessed
Keeping you alive like a songbird.
I am holding tightly on what once was straw
And my lips branded like the psalms of the blessed.
No whiskey, rum, nor ale
Doth taste like a mug from my inkwell.
My ravished soul can no more wish for paradise
It is here, I need not sail.
The world sleepeth, not I
whose rest flees when I hear the yearning cry
Like the wailing knell in the churchyard
...and Bezaleel the son of Uri within comes alive.
He teacheth my fingers to weave
Worlds bygone and coming on leaves.
I sail wherever with my disguised sceptre.
Returning with a thousand ethereal sheaves.
O Prisoner behind the bars of my soul
What gainest thee so
That thy errands hath made of me
A mortal never my dreams told?
What meanest this quest my pen doth run
Like a thirsty hart after a pond?
Night after night springs this strange lust
And every adventure is a mystery born.
The clamour of thy fiery harp
Charms my heart like honey drops
I yield as a man to the snare of a seductress
I lay my seven locks on thy laps.
It is now I who stands obsessed
Keeping you alive like a songbird.
I am holding tightly on what once was straw
And my lips branded like the psalms of the blessed.
No whiskey, rum, nor ale
Doth taste like a mug from my inkwell.
My ravished soul can no more wish for paradise
It is here, I need not sail.
Undisturbed, in this single cell
Sketches of astral thoughts, can’t tell
Nor harvest a will to value its cost
Through spiral walls, winds are lost
Apparels of ash gray, inept sleeves
Strings mocking, like fallen leaves
Nor tears, nor sigh, nor laughter
Shall kiss thine eyes before and after
Decor in frames of blood and nails
Youthful attempts, to climb the scales
Only in company, of thy seven selves
Each liberated to write, on life’s shelves
How useful are the nights of thy grief
Dethrone a king, thus, burdens relief
Discarding fragments of past, once dread
Upon stone and mortar, I rest my head
Hath freedom and shame pierced thy side?
Bezaleel,”Shall the souls of lovers,ever collide?”
Would architectural tears, ocean my solemn wish?
Thus, in light of thine covenant, grant thee a kiss