Entropy And Cleaning

So it’s that time of the year again,

Of cleaning mania, totally insane,

And as I fight against the dust and dirt,

My eyes streaming and my nose hurt,

I take it as a soldier who is at war,

A higher and holy goal I’m aiming for,

But just as I achieve that squeaky shine,

And take it as a finishing sign,

No trace of grease or even one crumb,

I have that feeling of being dumb,

The window wide open to real life,

Disrupting my order, bringing strife,

Neighbor’s renovation blowing in dust,

Making a reclean, a resweep a must,

Kid and mud enters through the door,

Making me reclean and resweep some more,

And I wonder what is the point of clean,

Against the third law of nature I mean,

When I slowly realize as it dawns on me,

True order, cleanliness is a miracle I see,

Which makes me understand, much more clear,

The miracles of Pesach about which we hear,

And so too it is not the result but the way,

Like me journeying towards freedom without pay,

Armed with my broom, no staff at hand,

I can really imagine Moses in the desert land,

And as I scrub and my body aches,

I understand that this is what it takes,

To be able to sit at the Sedar and really relate,

To the slaves and their newly emancipated state,

Now I don’t need help to envision from the four cups of wine,

‘Cos I got the meaning from the cleaning, each hidden divine sign.

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