There is no refuge in the vineyard of the Lᴏʀᴅ.
There is no fleeing to the kingdom of Annwfn.
She told me to find and embrace it all around me,
but as I reach out it withdraws from my grasp.
Even the almighty Sun has moths flying into it.

Clanging clanging forward on without ܪܘܼܚܵܐ [rukha]
withdrawn from the שְׁכִינָה [Shechinah]
it finds me again
it finds me again and again
—there is no place I can hide
—there is no place I can run
If I escape to the ends of the Earth its
face will greet me there.
If I flee out to the blackness between the stars
I will be found yet again.
If I run into my lover's arms there it will be in
his eyes in her smile
Everywhere it is falling falling down upon me
nowhere at no place can I breathe can I stand

It is not a cold fire that may comfort me.
It is not a warm ocean that may sustain me.
It is not a living thing but it is not dead—
being neither, it is omnipresent, hidden from my sight.
אֵלֵךְ בְּגֵיא צַלְמָוֶת [elech b-gei tzalmavet]
and yet there is no comfort, for I am another
schizo out on a stroll

yet I see no living things, but deadest trees
and rotting houses, crumbling sidewalks,
and I run, I run run run to the end of the road
just to see a billboard, undead, with its face moving—

I live not, though I cannot die.
If others have been unstuck in time, then I may be
the first to be unstuck in Being
suffocated and delirious, falling down down toward nihil
and if I reach
if I grasp
if I try to embrace
it all withdraws
for it all is nihil