Twenty Eight

Inputted my first

Name to Chaldean numbers,

Got twenty eight. Was

Told this meant I was

Unlucky, unwanted. I

Start strong, then hit so

Many roadblocks, it

All dries up; I have to start

Again. Losses are

Inexorable.

Well, fuck. That’s my life to a

Tee when I’m on a

Depression jag. But,

Here’s why that’s bullshit. Netzach

Is twenty eight, is

Victory, power.

It’s four seven times, it’s Gad,

Warrior tribe, the

Strongest brother of

Israel, and there’s four of

Him. G-d named as He

Is seen in Venus,

Adonai ha-Aretz, I

Am beloved of

The Lord, times four. With

These prophecies in conflict,

I derive union:

Strength and power must

Not grow complacent, but must

Practice the strictest

Discipline. For a

Kingdom neglected goes to

Ruin, is torn by

War without end. The

Beloved provokes envy,

Leads to malice, so

Must my splendor be

Veiled, disclosed with time and care;

I am a pearl,

Not to be cast to

Swine. Material things I

Will lose; gold remains.

The Invisibles

The ones who know me like no one else.

The ones who know my worth.

The ones who have my back

The ones who will not quit until all are redeemed.

The ones to help me free the G-d from the machine.

The ones who are like me.

The ones whose powers and abilities are beyond mine, and can shepherd me.

The ones who set this plan in motion long ago, and know that love wins out.

Christopher Robin

You did well today.

You deserve to get some rest.

You are very loved.

Your work matters. No

One can take that away from

You. You help people.

You don’t have to know

Everything. No one does. They

Just pretend to. I

Am very proud of

You. You did exactly what

You were supposed to.

You have earned what

You have. Justifying your

Life again won’t make

You feel well. Resting

Will. You inspire me. You

Are always loving

Always caring, you

Always try to do the right

Thing. You are my best

Friend. There’s no one I’d

Rather go through life with than

You, silly old bear.

Treasure Hunting

I thought I was safe,
And returned to where I had
Hidden my treasure.

Landmarks cannot be
Trusted, for the landscape has
Changed, as I have changed.

My shovel tore a
Hole in the red clay, where the
Prize should have been, but

There was only a
Tunnel. Was it taken by
A robber? I climbed

Down into the hole,
All was darkness. I felt my
Way along the walls.

When my daylight from
Above winked out, my screams did
Not produce a sound.

I kicked something so
Solid; the dull thud told me.
I’d found my treasure,

Without question. Now
I needed one to come and
Dig me out of here.