מטלמורפוסיס סרט ושירים בתערוכה
הופק ע"י גלריה טל בשיתוף צוות הטלויזיה הקהילתית כפר ורדים
במוי: ציפי דיקמן, עריכה: אילנה ביאליק, צילום : יהודית גיל , כתיבה ותחקיר: עדי גרינפלד, סאונד:אברהם ליכטר, מוסיקה:פינק פלויד Cirrus Minor
The Other Way
For each the world discovers,
all the gains and all the moods,
each for himself endeavors
the finding of the truth.
The stroke of the hour for none's the same,
one's heartbeat is never another's,
though some dreams unite for a while not one can meaure the other.
For each a world discovers,
his life,his truth, in no other way.
The Thinker travels the senseless road to Nothingland,
leaves his body subject to our eyes and his mind unaware,
of Thoughts and more which take it far from itself and from us,
there's no meaning meant
but we dig just the same;
it's stance which says discovery,
such is the essence of true art,
to understand the Thinker
sit like him
and think the same.
Search is the answer
No solution, no answer, if ever,
but from the heart comes, of those who search;
and only from the heart, either right words or otherstatements,
made in marble or freshly painted,
seen in the forest or felt with a kiss,
holding a newborn baby or revering a Lord,
listening, caring, yearning,
all the answers
are something like this.
The old man masterpicker in the tree of life
selects the fruits with able eye,
selects for round and peerless peel and taste,
a little blemish will not do,
and the weight must be right.
Carefully the picked he places in his bag,
which like him sways on the wind,
until there's fruit enough and the bag's too heavy,
the wind no longer strong enough.
The tree of Life has been emptied,
the good fruits are in the bag,
the rest lies on the ground,
where the wind shall take them
they are the seeds of new trees,
else even the masterpicker
won't find fruit
in coming times.
This canopy I know, which half-hides
the other mysteries,
this panoply of crinkled barch and cunning wood,
so does it block my view of certain friendly stars.
And where I rest to seek a higher mood
the trees too wall off the special sight,
a wall of darkened leaves bars
a look at all that's right,
the forest is not the place to be,
it is only mystery.
Into the open I must step,
to find the true in me,
gazing at a wider gap
which is heaven,
with no canopy.