It flows through
ten million hearts
Sheds light
rivaling moon glow
Flows from Green grass
from the Brown of trees
Branches pointing Upwards
tips rubbing gently against a blue sky

Not like the whine of a horse
nor the shriek of an elephant
Nor the laughter of a child
but a whispered Hum
One Knows after hearing it
that Goodness is a kind of breath
Like moonlight without the Moon

— © Abraham Menashe