Yod

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

But jewels now seemed loud and vast — too blunt, too bright, too built to last

Inside the hush that Tet had spun, a flash appeared — as small as sun

No sound, no flame, no sweeping arc — just one small dot inside the dark

It hovered close, yet stayed apart — and pulsed against his beating heart

It wasn't thought, it wasn't name — it had no shape, yet lit the frame

The fence around began to glow, not from without, but from below

The smallest things began to hum — the blade, the bug, the sleeping thumb

And in that hum, the spark flew near — it did not ask, it did not steer

It entered Odie like a sigh — a grain of time beneath the sky

His breath stood still, his bones grew thin — the world had folded into him

Each sound became a sacred ring — each silence bore its hidden wing

He saw the shack in single thread — the well, the cries, the words unsaid

A single dot was all it took — to read the world without a book

Ohm appeared and bowed his head — then vanished like a dream once said

No O, no chain, no breath to force — just presence running back to Source

The nail, the door, the sword, the shell — all birthed from this one citadel

Odie did not speak or nod — he simply sat, and saw through God

He felt the trees, the pole, the grain — and knew their root was just the same

A point of fire, a thread of will — too vast to move, yet never still

The shack became a silent shore — where one small spark could make much more

A whisper deep, and nothing more — yet Odie was the spark, the Yod, the core