Upon the Wings of the Shechinah,
glide with me into eternity,
upon the edge of the blue horizon,
that appears distant, yet, draws near.
Our time on earth is soon spent,
in sorrow, grief, and countless occupations,
for, all is vanity under the sun.
Ever since the serpent’s ploy,
the seasons are intermingled with both darkness and light.
Too often the only refrain to a time of joy
is that of the cruel rain, and the summer’s blight.
Yet, beyond this perpetual round of opposites,
eternal equanimity awaits.