To part from the longing
I am full but emptiness will still gust through me I am full but longing will drip a moment before the new mother’s retreat.
Grasping the gates, Hunched over Fielding cries after the pain caught within her Something is opening.
I rose early tied by a cord to your wellbeing Which is unknown, To forty hidden days To the fear of gathering clues that go to waste.
Franz Rosenzweig died young. His mid-twenties marked the apex of his life without him realizing that it was half spent. Jewish philosophy is studded with figures whose life spanned less than Rosenzweig's 43 years but whose name shined bright and far, both during their life and after their death. By contrast, Rosenzweig remained an enigma... להמשיך לקרוא ←
Before a baby comes into the cot, They leave her in the field To listen to the jackals and peacocks, To store up dew and sweltering