Please watch before reading, and listen while you read:
The Idan Raichel Project – Hakol Over (Everything passes)
I need you to dream the colour of spaces,
the time between midnight, tomorrow and trees,
I beg you to fathom amazing traces,
layers of clouds returning to seas…
I dare you to picture small shells of forgiveness,
buried within improbable fields,
requiems sold to merchants of stillness,
swordless battles of useless shields…
I want us to marry in a destitute chapel,
by ministers chanting untimely hymns,
with broken pieces of soft marble,
exchanging a lifetime of broken dreams…
THEORETICAL PHILOSOPHY 
Cohen’esque. Superb Sir
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Dear Mike,
Thank you from the heart.
Having my humble poem called “Cohen’esque” means more for me than you’d imagine…
I wrote/shaped this poem while watching over and over again the embedded video, which has a particularly sensitive string attached to my own soul. So much as I have felt leaving a comment which if you don’t mind I’ll paste here for you, and whoever may wish to read it, which depicts exactly that “string”:
“I wanted to hear this again…
I wanted to watch this again…
Because I feel again and again that it’s my soul trapped in a desperately beautiful way in this song.
I have Asperger’s, what the “normal” world would call “high functioning”; the world with which I feel communicating the way this transcendent performance does, in a desperate attempt to make myself understood without being hurt, again and again, silently attempting to contort my hand-branches into what I can’t ever say, but I would so much want you to understand…
All the small greatness of a perpetual child, condemned to never grow older than the sap flowing behind the bark you can see.
If I have ever had a mirrored image, it’s this.
Defiantly refusing to hate my soul’s small room, never willing to leave the silent perfection of my perfect loneliness, cleansing nevertheless every day the window meant for anyone to look through, hoping that one day someone shall notice my waving branches and the small fruit growing atop my roots for you…
Please, if anyone enters, sit silently on my bed and dream my thoughts together with me, touch me not beyond your eyes, as I’ve left myself nearly naked hoping you’d understand what I can’t say.
And when you leave, cover me; don’t let my ageing leaves ever scratch the silent story my bare skin would dream with you tomorrow when you might return…
Thank you again Idan Raichel, for bringing together “me”, with my “self”, so I can be at least sometimes, myself…”
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Never analyse the feral wanderings of the mind I say. I am cursed with the inability to do other than ‘take things literally’. Being 110 years old I have discovered that that is not such a bad thing. This day I was – still recuperating from my unfortunate excursion – reading much drivel on WP yet thankfully found your poem that I rather liked a lot. A bravo moment was called for. Keep it up…fine musings.
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About being 110 yo…
This year I turned 53, and decided to put the candles for 35 instead 🙂
Unfortunately for some reason we didn’t find any 3 candle, so we decided to group three thin candles to form a “three”…
That was all good, also the picture, which when looked at, showed that from the angle it was taken, it read 1115 😉
So my friend, you still have some centuries to catch the trail!
Thank you again, truly.
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