.29) The Wall

Even Berlin was not divided like the city of Myself. I long to visit you, my Soul, on the other side of the Wall. I know only this side of the Wall, with its trees and roads and buildings and its certain alternation of sun and shadow. Closing my eyes, I sit on my pillow, feeling emanations of a Sun beyond our sun, rippling sperms of a joy that would be pink were the lights on in there, dancing, tickling me, laughing toward me. You are said to be closer than my breath, O God. Why then can I not scale or dismantle this Wall, in order to get somewhere so near? They say the other side of the Wall shines like millions of suns and moons and can't really even be described— and all of that, I Am. They tell of a man who ran across a field to climb the Wall and tell those below what he saw, but when he got to the top he started laughing and dove over and was never seen again. I hang out beside the Wall, feeling the rays that come through, longing for this world and That World to be united. Can I build a podium and stand behind it, shouting, 'Mr. God, tear down this Wall! '? Here, I long for There— for There to be Here, too— for I can no longer tolerate the fickleness of joy, the inconstancy of peace.