The song of Abishag.
is a ballad of our great illusion.
For in the lines formed by the sharp curve of our retinas.
We missed the soft and hidden words of her own telling.
We must bury ourselves in text.
To the point where we see not with the sight of a noble king or even matriarchs fair.
But until we dig so deep, the light goes out.
And all we are left with is the truth of Torah dark.
G-d of all generations,
Reveal to us the voiceless and the real.
And give to us not eyes that see.
But hearts that feel
For the silent stories,
All the hidden beauties masked by our own obscurity
But waiting.
Between the lines.
To be revealed.
