no, not to mount sinai, but to the bath,
and to the fever dream, to the moment
of silence where, long ago,
our first ancestro
met you, and bathing,
and washing and
living dicoveredthese
were the gifts
and this was the path
and chose to
followand if fllow him,
and a million
and then, i follow
my own soul, tonight with the
light of one
candle in this path.
the path away from the
wayness from myself
and to your house,
my heart
they are the same