The Dot that Burns Forever

“The Dot that Burns Forever”

I stand in the night with no lamp in my hand,

A slave to a will I don’t understand.

The light has fled, the songs all died,

And still I whisper, “There’s nowhere to hide.”

I am a dot, black, alone, unseen—

No white around me, no in-between.

The proud fall high, the wise go blind,

But I stay tied in one knot, mind to Mind.

They call me beast, they call me dust,

They mock my faith, they crush my trust.

Yet in this ruin, a secret grows—

The darker the wound, the brighter it glows.

No more do I beg for abundance or show,

For what comes and goes is not mine to know.

I serve in the ashes, I breathe in the pain,

Till exile turns into Eden again.

For I am black but beautiful, scarred yet whole,

A vessel cracked open, revealing the Soul.

The Shechina sighs through my broken chest,

“I live in the dust—but here, I rest.”

So let me stay empty, humble, and small,

For that’s where the Aleph enters all.

And the dot—once dead, once lost, once shamed—

Becomes the spark through which worlds are named.