“Émigrér out of her my people”

“Émigrér out of her my people” 

In my little Sukkah, which teaches me everything, is a desert without limits. 

Its four posts; prayer, meditation, fasting, and manual work, are strong. 

Monstrous distractions weaken over time with a little trust.

Restored to the few are the orderly maps of the internal landscape; 

Torah; Joshua's easy yoke. 

More than 2700 years of rebellion leaves much debris to clear from the old paths.  

Joy in the house that Jacob built, fuels us to do the impossible.  Alone, we pioneer for the many who will return together along the arc of exile. 

Sand on the shore and stars in the heavens, yet only a remnant for The Happy Ending here on earth.

"Come away with me"

What mean these proud buildings now in disrepair?    

Illusions of grandeur in exile, in denial of The Great Rejection.

By trust in the diminished gospel, slaves remain slaves and dreamers stop dreaming.

The narrative punctured, deflated by the pie in the sky opiate.

Replacementist blind guides herd their controlled ones.

Well away from the danger of the knife of Abraham.

Guarding those lawless foreskins with their hireling hearts.

A real Joseph, though veiled in Egyptian cotton, restored to his father.

Not one of the lost sheep of Israel will be left behind.

A happy ending.  A richer promise.