Rabbi, my heart cries in the silence asleep

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Rabbi, my heart cries in the silence asleep

Rabbi, your suffering is my suffering, in the immense ocean of this piece of sea. Master, it pains me to see you crestfallen, narrowing your own thought and lost feeling. I know your disappointments and your most bitter history with nocturnal sleeplessness. Give me the opportunity to show you the deep essence of my own being. Being hurt and bruised by the sad uprooting.
Blood runs through my veins, full of burning passion. Ardent and hot is my deep sap, which reaches the deep roots of the sleeping earth. Land asleep and patient.
Uncompassed passion is what I feel, maybe I’m wrong, you know my love, because we all make secret mistakes and sleepless nights. My mistake was the worst of all, I got lost in the labyrinth of the desert of unreason, on the edge of the threshold of death. But today there is hope, in the eternal present, here and now.
Sweet words escape, like green hope rays. When that long-awaited moment arrives, I would like to contemplate again, on your horizon, those white clouds of cotton candy cane. Brown cane sugar, sweet and sour. Bitter as bile, sweet as the dawn of dawn, in the sweet melody of our passionate early mornings. Cane sugar in your red dawn, which sweetens your bitter loneliness, in every brief pause, in every brief silence, in every breath you exhale.
Each red dawn is a sweet instant of immortal love. Every dawn is an infinite wave of life, on the shore of this sea, which is your sea and my sea. I will imagine a new day, a new dawn, where your eyes shine in the sweet darkness, on the shores of the Dead Sea.
If one day my light goes out, I ask you only to shelter your warm kisses in mine. My master, my sweet love, my red spring eagle awake and sweetly secret. Distant stars disappear in the Milky Way, in a deep black hole of the lost abyss. Promise me to love me, as I love you, in the depths of these lost labyrinths.
You know how I stumbled upon millions of obsessions, but I can offer you thousands of poems, with the fire of my heart, with the spark of my sweet love. In another life you may find me again, but I do not want to lose you in the jungle of unreason now. They are will-o’-the-wisps, red with passion, in the deep flower of my heart. Tenuous fires that shine, like incendiary sparks, in the night of the fireflies.
Search your memories for love. I know that I am not the one who occupied your heart, full of immense love, but I try to fight to achieve it. I have days of immeasurable peace, of infinite tranquility, walking barefoot on the shores of Lake Tiberias. The sea is stirred by the storm of your fears. I know that your eyes look at your heart and soul, in your past. And my heart cries and screams in the silence asleep. I wish I had been the one chosen, the one you lost, just to see your eyes again shine in the sun, to see you happy, to see your soul smile with the warm desert wind. Beautiful desert, imbued with immense plasma by the Great Central Sun.
Master, that’s how I feel in my secret dreams. Hidden dreams, among violet cinnamon flowers. Master, at every moment, my essence escapes into the labyrinth of your sweet dreams.
Stars that dot the sky, each night accompany your dreams. Who could enter one of them, so sweet that your still face illuminates the light of your own inner sky! Let me in for a second, in that sweet dream of peace. I just want, that the fire of my own heart, warm the bed so that you rest your warm love.

Maika Etxarri
Copyright poetic prose and photography

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Soy un espíritu libre poeta, enarbolando la bandera de la paz y libertad, en este universo existencial. Vivo en el eterno presente, aquí y ahora, bajo el poder del amor, sin la incertidumbre del mañana, sin la esclavitud del nuevo orden establecido mundial. Maika Etxarri Escritora, poeta, blogger y fotógrafa Autora del libro: La rosa del desierto
Esta entrada fue publicada en Ancestral esenian people, Comunidad esenia, desert of Judea, Desierto de Judea, Esenios, Essene people of the Judean desert, História oculta de Cristo, Historia oculta, Historia oculta de Cristo, Historia prohibida, Lake Tiberiades, Manuscritos del mar Muerto, mar Muerto, Milky Way, Monasterio de Qumrán, Monastery of Qumran, Qumran, Qumrán, Rabí, Rabí, mi corazón llora en el silencio dormido, Rabbi, my heart cries in the silence asleep, Rollos de Qumrán, Sin categoría. Guarda el enlace permanente.

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