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'Being Is a Point Without Dimension' by Van Lam Nguyen is a popular poem on Chanuka holiday.

Being Is A Point Without Dimension

Hanukkah is a famous Jewish festival, wherein people light candles and sing songs. Music forms an integral part of the celebration. On this day, people also recite poems written by popular poets. These poems can be either based on the festival or have some moralistic message attached to them. You can also write these poems on the cards that you want to give to your friends and relatives, during the festival. From the gallery of famous Hanukkah poetry, we bring for you one heart touching poem in this article. The poem is titled ‘Being is a point without dimension’ and is written by Van Lam Ngumen. It spreads the message of Hanukkah and is philosophical in tone. The poem stresses on the multi-dimensional aspect of life and draws similies from the eight candles burnt on Hanukkah. It brings out the deep lamp burning within each individual, which is yet to be perceived by the person. The poet shows the dynamism and vivacity of life and considers this quality to be similar to the activity of the festival. Read on to feel through the enchanting lines of the verse.

Being Is a Point Without Dimension

Being is a point, without dimension.
Our consciousness of now is never now.
No sight or sound is simultaneous,
Needing its own time to get to us,
Instants that no instant will allow.
Each moment is the scene of our invention.
Mind is the machine for our invention,
A chip for giving beings their dimension,
Restricted by what circuits will allow.
Know, then, that the one, eternal now,
Unlike the fact-based fiction writ by us,
Sustains a candle simultaneous.

So is all being simultaneous,
Each tick of time a fabulous invention,
The mark of motion relative to us,
Here now, now gone, unchanged in its dimension.

Give your attention, please, to what is now,
As far as mind and motion will allow.
Before-now still exists, you must allow,
Robe and remnant simultaneous,
In point of fact, both fact-induced invention,
Each already past the restless now,
Lost in its untouchable dimension,
A rush of light enroute away from us.
Nor can we even say that "we" are "us,"
Depending on what grammar would allow.
Life does not proceed in one dimension:
Inside, all is simultaneous,
Sensed through the surmise of our invention,
As deeply felt as that which we call now.

Most of us sense something beyond now.
Infinity's a lamp that burns in us
Deep beneath the sea of our invention,
Intense as our imaginings allow.

Eight days the lamps burned, simultaneous,
Light streaming from a point without dimension,
Light simultaneous with our invention,
External to the one now known to us,
Night in no dimension we allow