Elders to what had been slaves,
Amid the early morning damp
We sat and listened to complaints,
Of what they wanted, what we lacked.
The food was sparse, they wanted more.
The manna was too bland to bear.
They hungered for a little meat,
And feared the life that they would share.

With bodies free, but souls enchained
The wretched men could not conceive,
The joy and pride to be one’s own,
The hope that comes from being free.
They wanted still the life they’d known
Without the need of pride or shame,
The patterns of a well worn day,
Where past and future were the same.
A simple place, with choices few,
Though driven by a whipping hand,
Where each man knew what he must do,
A life that all could understand.

 “Why believe?” The rebels sneered,
“We cannot see this G‑d of ours,
Nor ever hear what He has said,
Or even know if He is here.
Is He foe or is He friend?
Perhaps he’ll make us slaves again.”

What of this man who leads us now,
Who claims the voice of prophecy?
“It is our G‑d”, the man has said,
“Who brought us up from slavery,
Who fought our battle at the sea,
Who guarantees to keep us fed.”

But now he seeks a distant place;
He says, “It is the promised land.”
But no one knows what we might find,
Whether paradise or graves of sand.
To gain the elders’ sympathy
He summoned us to share his sight,
But scared of what we thought might be,
And lacking reasons to agree,
We choose to hide inside the camp,
Wrapped safely in obscurity.

But plans like men oft go astray,
And what we wish might never be.
So words unbid, against our wills,
Began to swirl inside our heads
With visions of a vast abyss
Beyond the living and the dead.

They showed us much of what might be –
Of hope amid our loss and ruin,
But terror too engulfed our hearts
As we perceived Infinity.
Too much we saw and understood,
Deceived no more by petty lies,
Eternity before us lay,
As we began to prophesy.

That is all and nothing more.
We finally saw what he could see
And understood what he must bear,
This burden brought of prophecy.
The words and visions came and went
And we appear much as before
Except the memory of that time
Has changed our souls forevermore.

No more we wonder what to do,
Of what is wrong and what is right.
We understand that all is G‑d,
Be it darkness, be it light.
The Truth is not a simple thing;
It makes us slaves; it makes us free.
A curse to know what need occur,
This blessed gift of clarity.

- Finding the Light of G‑d, pages 169-171