The spark · light in the clay

σπινθήρ, the spark; also pneuma, the breath. Buried under the body and under the soul there is something that did not come from here — a fragment of the fullness, smuggled into the clay, asleep and unaware of itself. Not a faculty and not a conscience: a piece of the source, in the wrong place, that can be woken.

The single image the whole corpus is organised around, and the one that rhymes most disturbingly with Lurianic nitzotzot in kelipot — sparks of a shattered light held in shells. Fourteen centuries apart, no demonstrated channel, the same picture.