N, the Rogation
XXX
A worm thanketh not Thee,
Nor doth a maggot recount Thy lovingkindness.
Mortals in exile, coiled and writhing are destined to fill graves,
Each but a damnable host for a guest Παν-λάθος invited,
This you forgot, but the Lord has remembered: the faithful He still saves;
Prosper us, thus we divide, but become in destruction, united.
Only can good be distorted and only the sacred defiled:
Woe! to have wanted to want as we ought, but be bound to a death-fear
Boasting in mouth et in caelo, ego, but Abraham’s child,
Heir of Moriah, has paved us a Way by volition from depths here;
Everything truly is God-preordained and inevit’bly crafted
Yet in fulfilling the time, we have freedom of outcomes unfrozen
Walking a path to the fate we decided, our destinies drafted:
Fortunate liminal spaces of life in necessity chosen.
מרנאתא
What man forgot • What Mashiach remembered