Sad sailed a wing cloud cloven rite, bound darkness for its flight, a strange daemon while still sun, the mountains still in sight. A night creature staged a faux dive, then fell without a clue, the set of creation mourned for vision of something new. Fell descant with lingering wound, rose ascent upon the moon, strange aria, in arpeggio, a Rosetta stone finding tune. The night rising higher, say stronger light, higher than the noon so bright. Then a song that takes thus chord, and din lances judgment with its sword, and brings a savior there accord what reasons to know why. Race in child, my soul gone wild, summer spirit undefiled, whisper mind that seems so shy, fallen gift that kneels before your open sky!
Whose full moon upon the third, does it not rise upon the ninth, cherry pickings from the sky, all dreams gasp for solid light. So this vision of recompense, tells lies, times of false and spent, can I move up the moor, find apocryphal of lore, there some will like magic spell, find an answer at some well, and in then a strange mouth speak broken spells, with the circle now complete, for in great and fleet surprise, will a boy face dawn’s light sky, that rise that does not lie.
Now risen upon the third, Apocrypha of new born earth, and this fall thus now complete, for your heavens now to reach. Is this madness no surprise, is this gift that meets your eye, will this child find all repeat when G-D’s summons find complete. Now a dream made real and true in October on the dew, when the morning risen rise, comes the answer from your skies. Blood moon comes in by four days, but by this third you rise surprise, by an altar now complete, your son now meets you in famed blessed defeat.
So you take me on the third, raise my body broken earth, and in sixes all I rise, and beholden golden skies, what does arise, when life does find, when Hashem sighs, when Hashem sighs!
This strange tune by poem repeat, as your fallen in defeat, know now not it is some end, know you do not need defend, know, this light it will not sin, and by broken spirit spell, you will find your rhyme worth well, for in thirds and no repeat G-D will make your life complete, on the third, on the third! – 10.03.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל
I write it, Apocryphal Canon cannot be defended, it is! – דָּנִיֵּאל