Welcome to Purim, holiest day of the year.
Sanctity and profanity merge in
A time so lost beyond the horizon
We lose the Name.
Haman and Mordechai now are drinking buddies,
Old pals who trade stories.
Meaning fades and concepts melt--
They were only windows, after all,
That peer into immeasurable truth.
There are no boundaries here.
After a few, the two stumble home,
Their heads spinning, adlayada.
They fumble keys, feed the cat,
And wake sober on Pesach,
Each in the other one's bed.
Welcome to Purim, holy of holies,
Fulfillment of the solemn cycle.
Miracle and revelation,
Sorrow and celebration,
Find strange completion
In this day of days.
All others we toss away to say
We finally have remembered to forget.
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Imagine There's No Haman