The latent “I”

Spleen was now loaded
Heavily as vineyard full of not harvested grape
I pity the nation that does not press its own grape

All plasmatic beings elegantly approached to burn
The head and the tail of the serpent
The latent “I” buried under the shade of the golden fig and
The drops of the pomegranate’s juice
In vain tempted to cure all wounds of the turbulence “Past”-s and
Aloe, balm and the royal jelly turbulence “Now”-s
While in seclusion yet the latent “I” bears Love
Since it shall write for the upcoming prophet
He writes since he believes in miracle
By each lovely word he utters
The gate opens the “All” may hear heavenly shriek and
The distance shortens
To kiss the epithelium of the heart and
By each word he utters
A prejudice dismantles in one blast
To see the rainbow from the burnt of its particles and
All the black holes queued in the cosmic cord
To make the necklace for Sophia eternal
The bride of the eternal groom
That embraces the Seen the Semi- Seen and the Unseen.