They surround her [the sun], the seven planets,
but she burns toward the pallor of his [the moon's] face.
And he is so far, in the heavens of the earth's sphere,
yet he yearns for her, for her golden fire.
The moon's shadow is drawn to the sun's face.
Always, day and night, they touch above,
not enough for him or her, only for a moment,
and so each day, for countless years,
he dies in her light, and she in his.
The sunset of a pink dawn,
More than once in desperation,
they are darkened for a moment -
eclipse of the moon,
eclipse of the sun.
But in this pursuit, they light the sky,
prisoners in their orbits, unconsoled.
More so than in past years, this Passover feels like a new beginning.
(The Jewish year "begins" with Rosh Hashana, and the numbering of the years is counted from Rosh Hashana. But the calendar is actually calibrated from Passover, in the month of Nisan. Passover always falls on the first full moon after the northern spring equinox.)
I've been posting here for ten years (anniversary was April 8) and I'm ten years older than I was then. But I also feel I've got a lot more clarity, focus, and direction.
Now that I'm back in Portland, I won't be able to see Sophie as often, but I will be able to make the most of the time I do get to spend with her. And I'll be able to move forward with other things: education, hobbies, career, relationships, creativity.
Anyway, short post for today, only because I've still got lots of stuff to do before the seder tonight.