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|Rosh Hashanah opens
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On which is writ, for good or ill, our fate.
Still wrestling with angels, we engage,
Harrowing our hearts, our future state.
However, "we" encompasses us all,
As though we were but droplets in a wave
Suspended on its journey to the shore,
Hard put to any single droplet save.
And so we pray not only for ourselves,
Nor only for our family, friends, or tribe:
All must be our congregation, else
How might we turn to God to turn the tide?