
Oh, to be as bold as a lion,
when I wake in the morning
with a roar instead of a yawn.
Receiving what the day will bring,
to my attention as I sing out,
in solemn gratitude, modeh ani,
for my soul restored anew.
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Oh, to be as bold as a lion,
when I wake in the morning
with a roar instead of a yawn.
Receiving what the day will bring,
to my attention as I sing out,
in solemn gratitude, modeh ani,
for my soul restored anew.
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Oh, ruinous soul,
shall you continue in your negativity?
The threads are bare, exposing your despair,
consuming even the sparks of hope,
that need time to be fanned into flames
of promise for renewal in your life.
—– —– —– —– —–
What of strife? It serves no purpose,
unless transcended when the challenge is met.
What of worldly comfort? (Never to be of avail
to the uncomfortability of a restless soul).
What of love? That can only flourish
in a heart transformed by G-d alone.
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“There shall no evil come to thee: nor shall the scourge come near thy dwelling.” – Psalm 91:10
No longer driven this way and that,
because we are given the blessing of adaptability
in times of war, when all appears lost.
And, in times of peace as well,
in our homes, and when all alone,
to remember our brethren and kin,
when we have no one to tell
our troubles to except for G-d.
The memories of ashes, everywhere,
like dust in the currents of wind,
that shift across the ages.
Yet, renewal is at hand,
across this war-torn land,
when we turn to the One above,
Who can reconcile our lives to Himself,
and absolve our sins of indifference
to both G-d and mankind.
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The links of time
are found in the air,
amidst the whispering wind,
and the evanescent dreams
of the angels, echoing our prayers.
These threads of gossamer
are as fragile as the memories
of our ancestors, drifting in the ether,
until they are purified of the hues
of grey, that cloud the minds
of their relatives on the earth.
Spare us from the flames of Gehenna,
in this life and the afterlife, L-rd;
that we may not be inclined
to repeat the sins of our ancestors,
nor, fail to improve ourselves,
while we have the opportunity,
for the dead perform no mitzvoth;
rather, they are only subject
to the heavenly court,
for what can no longer be undone.
May the upper waters
refresh our tired souls,
like the tears of Heaven,
falling upon the penitent.
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