Tav

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

But now the shack was cool and still — the flame had passed, the world was will

The air was soft, the light was pale — the mountain shook without a gale

Upon the floor, near open door — a glowing mark he'd not seen before

A cross, a curve, a final sign — the letter Tav in silver line

He stepped upon it, not to win — but to begin from deep within

It didn't burn, it didn't bind — but bent his soul to path and mind

He turned and saw the room behind — each wall engraved with lettered kind

Aleph in the rafters high, Bet where beams and blankets lie

Gimel carved into the floor, Dalet watching by the door

Hei in windows, Vav in threads, Zayin dancing near the beds

Chet was drawn in fenced-in light, Tet a coil in shadowed night

Yod and Kaf near books and page, Lamed tall as if to sage

Mem beneath the well he passed, Nun in water flowing fast

Samekh round the hearth he knew, Ayin staring straight and true

Pe engraved in spoken grain, Tzadi curved with quiet strain

Qof behind the wall once veiled, Resh where all the arcs had paled

Shin still smoldered in the beam — a final test, a purging gleam

But Tav stood plain, without demand — a mark upon the breathing land

Ohm appeared, no more disguise — no mask, no myth, no mirrored eyes

He did not speak, just turned and went — and Odie knew what all this meant

He took one step, not less, not more — and crossed the Tav beyond the door