We were taught that Heaven
Was an unintellectual pursuit
Faith was frivolous compared
To dialogue between Rabbinical
Figures or and whether or not
The argument focused on G-d
The value

To my family was clearly
Derived from the practice of
Debate, of learning for the sake
Of expanding one's brain
In effect, the sky was not to
Marvel at, nor the stars
Or even

The idea of love
(Brittle agnosticism
Bending for idealism)
Nonetheless seemed
Spiritual to me as the sound
Of sawtooth waves crashing
Soul's battered shore

But still, I wept
For what is left to wonder
If the sky's only for thunder,
Rain, clouds and shame
Pollution's inevitable imprint
Blighting collective
Silence

"Silence is golden"
Has always been how the
Saying goes what kind of
Shanda grew to ascribe
Solitude to alchemy so far
I feel only a Jewess' mistep
Into idolatry

Worshiping this screen now
I long for your face its
Fine lines inhabit anticipation
Days both fast and slow
Breath both deep and shallow
So what is it to be?
Slowly

We wait, wait, wait while
Quickly drawing conclusions
It might have otherwise taken
Years to promulgate
Connection's conviction
Takes hold of weather
Raining small

Pleasures as guiltily
As I used to feel as a child
Dismissing my innate sense
Of ancient Chokhmah
The sky is not just
Above us it is also
Around us, marrying

Each new day
To every moment
We've strayed from
Glimmers of hope
Clouds' enemies
Sadducees
Obsolete