Ayin

Odie O'Dool hath been a fool, soaked in drool he dreamt of jewels

But dreams had drained in ocean mist — and left him where the eye exists

Not sight, not sound, not word or wind — just space where seeing could begin

He opened eyes with no intent — and saw not forms, but what they meant

The shack, the well, the field, the flame — all looked the same, yet not the same

He saw their weight, their root, their law — and none of it inspired awe

The Prophecy O sat still and wide — its circle staring from inside

It didn't roll, it didn't blink — it only watched, and made him think

For once, he didn't chase or ask — he simply shed his inner mask

No hands to lift, no mind to stretch — just presence balanced on the edge

And there he saw himself once more — not as before, but something core

He saw his fears, he saw his pride — and let them sit, no need to hide

No voice from Ohm, no guiding line — just silence, sharp and undefined

The Ayin gave no gift or gold — it only let the shape unfold

And in that calm, that vast refrain — he saw the joy inside the pain

He blinked and saw the grass inhale — the stone beneath the nail-less trail

He saw the way the past had curled — to shape his ever-sinking world

The Prophecy O did not depart — it simply glimmered in his heart

And Odie wept, but not from grief — the tears were just a branch's leaf

He wiped no cheek, he said no word — for silence was the prayer he heard

He blinked again, and nothing changed — except the way the world arranged

And in that gaze, so soft and sure — he saw that Ayin leaves no cure