Resh

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

But now the shack felt strange, undone — the floor was soft, the light was one

He walked in circles, slow and low — unsure of where his soul should go

No cries to chase, no staff to lift — no mirror tricks or golden gift

He bowed his head, then bent his spine — and let his brow align with time

The earth was warm beneath his face — a simple, sacred, turning place

The O returned with gentle hum — not first or last, just wise and dumb

It did not rise, it did not roll — it only sat and made him whole

Ohm appeared but did not speak — he only watched with gaze unique

And in that look, Odie could see — the start of what was meant to be

He saw Aleph in forested grace — Bet in the hearth, Gimel in chase

He saw the doors and mirrored walls — the rising light, the hidden falls

He saw the breath of Hei unfold — and Samekh's loop in Mem's deep hold

He felt the sword, the seed, the well — the circling truths he couldn't tell

But all of them curved back to this — the quiet room, the turning kiss

Resh did not shout, it only bent — and showed the road was never spent

To start again is not to lose — but simply to reshape the fuse

He lifted slow, without a crown — no need for up, no shame in down

He stood like roots that learned to dance — both deep in dirt and caught in chance

The O now hovered near his chest — and whispered "turn, but turn to rest"

He faced the door, no need to flee — he'd seen enough to walk and be

For Resh had drawn the sacred curve — and Odie walked it, word by word