If there is a place called truth
It’s called a Sukkah
Where we live in a booth
The walls are flimsy
And you have leaves as a roof
You see through and through
Not just to the stars
But to the essence of you
Who are you?
You are not white or black
Nor tan, brown, or blue
You are not the image in the mirror
Despite your age, you are not old or new
You are not what you have
And most importantly
You are not you
So who are you
You are a flimsy, frail
And transient booth
Hidden within
The booth’s vulnerability
And insecurity
Is a certain mystery
When you dwell you begin to sense
A magical majestic presence
Of an ineffable essence
Temporary in nature
But in reality transcendence
So if you want to know the truth
You are you through and through
The one and only human booth!