The transgression departs like an iceberg off the stern its mark, dark-stained scratched across the wronged across the World across our foreheads. With this coal miner’s lamp we grovel, grimy, swaying light through the tunnels of our time, our misery. Fixed by that bright spot sounding our leprosy before it is revealed: “Unclean am I!” We huff and heave the load ahead with words seen, then heard: "Out out damn light!" Through that mark on our crown seen, heard, in that tenable light, the headlamp diminished but throbbing we send scrolls with flying horsemen where we can.
Wonderful piece, Ehud! Please write more poetry!
Very evocative