The Eternal Jew’s Tale, #152, Batkol’s Journal, 8

In this episode, revelations, accusations, and exhaustion.

The Eternal Jew’s Tale
Nineteenth Era, Part 5, ~1425 C.E., back in Genoa
Batkol’s Journal, part 8
The Lesser Yikhud,* The Sorceries of Lilah bat Eve

* Hebrew: union, merging, divine or human

How to speak the infinite? Beyond our sense; beneath our language. Imagine this tumbles thru your mind in perfect order, all at once:

Lapis blue all luminate; streaks of flickering sparking stars; the northern lights dance and sway full of music, lyre and lute, and trembling down the zither strings, orange and yellow, turquoise green blowing into gauzy veils like mists upon a mountain peak, like dew dripping from the trees, like rivers flowing over us and all the worlds are shimmering, flutter flicker glimmer, glint iridescent voices sing across the undulant expanse and flood the disembodied mind as angels and demons alike are praise sun and moon and stars intone heavenly chords of light are pulse in sound and color, feeling thoughts interweave like symphony there be Adam shake and stomp be Lilith singing of free love be Satan retelling his epic revolt be Ishtar declaring the world is one be Ezekiel making the dry bones live be Jesus explaining the end of time be Shekhinah revealing the Lor in-dwelt and all the simple people are sage and wherever I wander such they say:

‘You who are nothing, you *talking spirits*, sing Me and I will live you.’
*-* Onkelos and Jonathan targums of Ber/Gen. 2:7
‘nefesh khiya’ in which they transform the standard meaning of ‘khiya’
‘Torah is but a flicker of God; an after-image is what you read, altered colors and blurry words.’
‘What you feel, pleasure and pain, your horrors and your ecstasies, be knowledge states in the Eternal worlds, all holy, all for good.’
‘You live simultaneous in many worlds.’
‘When you twist the world thru body and time, all is illusion, all unclear.’
‘We be hot and cold; we be one and many, we be rapid immobile in spaceless space.’
‘Shattered. Whole. The entire unreal. That be you and the world of your sense.’

And there I lay touchin’ myself in a darkness like I never known, this world, this body, this seedling, me, Lilah still singin’ the same psalm, repeatin’ the ancient cry in the night, hopeless hopes that the Lor may hear:
‘*Thank Adonai. That be good because He bring mercies to the world*.’
She stops. No sound. No light. No me.
*-* Psalm 118:1

Daylight dimly tinges her hut. Lilah gone. No smudge, no broth. No rebel angels orgasmin’ me along heaven’s liminal edge; no Lilith sexin’ me like a man; no bodiless, me-less timelessness. Just I, Batkol, empty and dull. What little I feel be confusion and shame, be cries for forgiveness, hollow or vain.

But mostly exhaustion is what I feel. Wisht I was back in Genoa. Hardly able to lift my head, like a dead body lain out on a bier, my spirit now just fadin’ away and eyin’ the world so strangely faint; distraught at how faint my touch has become; distraught that I can’t lift my hand; distraught that there ain’t nothing to touch.

Open my eyes. She’s sittin’ there.
“Have some broth. You weak and wrung out, and gettin’ weaker. You mus’ eat.”
I spit out the broth she spoons in my mouth.
“You poisoned me. Away! Away!”

Open my eyes. She’s sittin’ there.
“Blackberry, this. No medicine. You mus’ eat. Just berry and seed.”
I let her put one in my mouth. Hunger stronger than mistrust. One and another, I eat them all.

Open my eyes. The room almost dark. She’s sittin’ there, hummin’ psalms.
“Wan’ some berry? Wan’ some broth? No medicine. Just nourishments.”
I eat and then I close my eyes. When I wake the room be light. Dreamt an arrow from behind pierced my neck. I fell. I died.

She helps me stand. We walk around the room once. And once again.
“You been poison, but not by me,”
she opens, but then she says no more.

She holds my arm. We walk outside, slow, unsteady up a path and down again. I have to rest.
“I been poisoned, but not by you? Bah! Who else could poison me?”

~~~~~~~~~~

In the next episode: what is real?