Perhaps I am held back by a fear that they won't like my ideas, of how I'll be perceived. And it's easy to think, "We mustn't care too much for others' opinions," But there's more involved when it comes to penetrating a system that has created a culture.

Dot dot dot... That ellipsis again that falls in between their questions and my answers, Their comments and my comebacks, And their desensitization to my accent.

The land is living - Bearing our weight and catching our tears, Steady among the instability on its surface.

But maybe it’s not as bad as it feels or seems that whoever you thought you    were is not, or maybe you’re just something else for now and you’re    becoming a fuller you, a broader you and maybe someday as you continue    forward you’ll see that the path was somewhat circular - and suddenly you    see those pieces in front of you, not decayed or dissolved but waiting to be    picked up.

We walked, and then we walked some more, through ancient pathways and a mosaic of worshippers - each with a version of the story all his own. A cross back-grounded by a glowing green, while not far off a white dome looms, housing inside it black suits and hats, and Sinai’s gift. And we climb above, with mediocre hummus, and with backs against the stone we share a conversation so mixed in all the ages upon which we sit gazing, and smile.

Sometimes I wonder Why did I have to know you Just to let you go

Light.

Don’t you see that I’m actually the one who’s stuck - behind the barriers of society?

But there is another kind         with golden eyes Who stays with feet on the ground Who places no emphasis on mountains or shoulders Who sees only others and stays himself          And that is the best kind.