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    We walk hand in hand
    on trembling stone.
    Jerusalem rustles –
    a kind of whisper, an eternal chorus,
    without beginning or end.
    Forget you?
    when does breathing stop?
    This whisper... different at night
    in stillness.
    Another visit, another time;
    turning to the east
    chanting a kind of prayer,
    not yet thought out.
    No great heat warms the coldest heart,
    but in stillness, Jerusalem glows,
    a clear, cool, glistening
    water jewel under moon
    and stars.
    The Bible speaks of your fragrance.
    I can do no more.
    Your streets are quiet
    and yet they never slept,
    inscribing the scattered fates
    of a million shattered lives
    One feels whole again. Fate?
    Past and future and tonight
    join hands and circle slowly
    in a round of fulfilment.
    Stay in the center. Remember this moment.
    It is an explanation, an answer, a promise.
    Jerusalem stone holds special radiance –
    more softly than soft.
    Jerusalem stone under your night cloak
    of shiny night.
    How can a stone be gentle, I wonder?
    embracing, protecting...
    still silent listening,
    night quality of gentle summer time...
    She keeps you –she holds you
    to herself like a magnet.
    Strong and delicate,
    passionate and serene,
    all this – no other city–
    only here.
    He and she, she and He
    and the balance of both;
    balance of the scale –
    uncanny evolution through
    centuries of longing –
    chanting of a ballad of a city,
    wonder of a world
    suspension in time, in air.
    Harmony after dissonance,
    astounding in passion and strength.
    My eyes are open,
    this vision too has fled,
    a memory perhaps,
    perhaps not;
    woven tapestry of
    wailing walls.
    Now I return and trace my way back,
    being carried as people
    always have been
    when weary,
    on a kind of wheel,
    a circle, an eternal circle back
    to that unseen gate,
    where I entered.
    The sun is setting now,
    shadows of trees throwing
    a soft net of color over houses
    and people;
    Jerusalem revisited at dusk...
    I began to descend the winding hill,
    I cannot stop looking behind.
    She keeps you –
    she holds you to herself
    like a magnet.

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