Surrounded by the dark,
Enclosed from your heart
The warmth of friendship escapes me.
Your rod and your staff-
They do not comfort me.
I feel the your gift,
The weight  of your eternal breath,
It falls upon my chest as I fall,
Fall low,
Down to the ground,
No longer a soft forest floor,
But the hard and grainy
Asphalt
Of reality.
What once comforted
Now feels numb:
The pressure of your rod
Of your staff
Of the Tree of Life,
They fall upon me.
The breath you have given
My eternal soul,
It feels like
A constant
Morning Breath.
The pain of once
Seems morphed into
The torment of eternity.
What started
As mere scratches
Has grown large,
Slicing through my now paleing skin,
Leaving the rivlets of blood
Which I so desire.
God,
Adoni,
Ha-Shem,
Eternal One,
Whatever your name may be,
Whatever name you may go by,
Your gift feels a curse.