Where The Creator Hides Between Us

Where The Creator Hides Between Us

When ten men bend their pride to give,

they taste the reason they were born to live.

Each tries to bestow though his ego screams “No!”

and from this shattered effort, the first lights start to glow.

We push through bills, through fears, through endless crap,

through mornings where we’d rather stay curled in a trap,

but the moment one heart tries to rise and give,

the others remember why together we live.

You try to love a friend and your strength disappears—

the Creator shows the truth by exposing your fears.

But when all of us fail and still reach out again,

the Creator signs His name on the hearts of ten men.

We build Him from nothing, from broken desires,

from daily annoyances, from anger and fires.

Each tiny bestowal, each gesture we try,

forms the vessel where the Creator will lie.

For revelation is not in “me,” not in “you,”

but in the place where our shattered intentions push through.

In that trembling space where two hearts meet,

the Creator’s footsteps begin to beat.

So we keep bestowing, though we stumble and fall,

and the more we admit we can’t do it at all,

the more His light gathers in the space we make—

ten men giving back what the ego would take.

🔥 “Inside the One Desire”

(A brutal everyday climb toward the Creator )

I crawl inside the want to be One with Him,

while the bills keep screaming and the lights go dim.

My phone won’t stop buzzing with the world’s demands,

yet my heart’s in a war zone with empty hands.

I dive into that chamber where the longing burns,

but the damn car won’t start and the whole day turns.

Traffic jams choke me while ego pulls tight,

still I search for His softness inside the fight.

The boss barks orders, my patience cracks,

the weight of the rent sitting on my back.

Friends ghost out, loneliness stalks the room,

yet I whisper His name in the inner gloom.

Coffee spills down my shirt as I try to ascend,

the mind mocks every dream I intend.

Pain in my chest from wanting His face,

but my dog pukes on the floor — so much for grace.

The desire pulls harder while the world goes mad,

I feel Him in the ache of the good and bad.

Every interruption is a messenger sent,

showing me the lack where my vessel is bent.

The heart breaks open because I want to give,

not for myself but for the way souls live.

In that place of longing I finally see—

He waits in the cracks life punches through me.

I press my forehead to the truth I feel,

though nothing outside of me seems to heal.

I pray from the wound where His Light is due,

and He fills that desire because it’s wholly true.

So I walk through the chaos with a trembling grin,

knowing every blow is a doorway in.

And the more the world smashes what I thought I knew,

the closer my broken heart clings to You.

The Left, the Right, and the Beast Inside

🔥 “The Left, the Right, and the Beast Inside”🔥

I stand before the King with shaking hands,

Pretending I’m whole while drowning in shifting sands.

Above reason I praise Him like a man who can’t breathe,

But when reason kicks in, it shows what’s underneath.

The left line hits me like a boot to the skull,

Revealing the truth—my heart’s empty, dull.

Importance of holiness? Only when I fake it,

Inside I’m bare, bankrupt, too damned weak to take it.

I see I’ve got nothing—no faith that’s real,

Just a mouth that talks tough while my knees always kneel.

This lack is the knife that cuts me awake,

It hurts so bad it teaches what wholeness can’t make.

Emptiness carves me till I’m hollow and thin,

Like the Creator ripped open my chest just to crawl in.

This beast in me screams, “Take for yourself!”

While the soul whispers softly, “Ask for nothing but help.”

I taste the left line—cold, sharp, and vile,

It shows what I hide with every forced smile.

But only those who seek to bestow can feel this ache,

The emptiness that threatens every breath they take.

So I beg for exaltedness, not wisdom or sight,

Just the strength to rise broken and walk above night.

Not to receive greatness, not to feel any glow,

But to bend like a servant whose master says, “Go.”

Then the right line appears—Hesed dressed like a king,

Telling me there’s good in every terrible thing.

“I made your evil,” He says, “but I gave you a spice—

The Torah to break it, if you pay the price.”

It’s brutal to see how the Torah cuts deep,

It wakes the parts of me I’d rather keep asleep.

It drags me from filth to a thin ray of light,

Not by wisdom or miracles—just choosing what’s right.

Right is wholeness, faith above knowing,

A quiet flame in a storm that keeps blowing.

And only when I cling to the Good Who Does Good,

Can the left line reveal what’s misunderstood.

Then wisdom hits—Hochma sharp as a blade,

The Torah that shines once the right has been made.

You earn the Giver only after you trust,

And walk above reason through fire and dust.

This is the work—between beast and man,

Between left and right that rip me in two as they can.

I rise from the ashes, brutalized, torn apart,

But every blow carves the Creator into my heart.

When The Hunger Turns Holy -- A Poem on Shamati 143

🔥 “When the Hunger Turns Holy” — A Poem on Shamati 143

I walk through days where nothing fits,

The heart’s a cage the ego knits.

It whispers, “Take, devour, claim,”

’Til all my thoughts burst into flame.

The soul grows hungry in the dark,

It claws the ribs to leave a mark.

It begs for Light but tastes the mud,

’Cause every rise must cross the flood.

Shamati writes: the hunger’s real—

You starve until the heavens peel.

You’re left with nothing but your cry,

A broken vessel asking why.

But this is love, disguised as pain,

The lack, the longing, the inner strain.

He empties you so you can feel

How only He can make you real.

You fight the urge to numb the ache,

To run, to hide, to curse, to break.

But every wound that splits your chest

Is Him demanding you confess:

“I’m not the owner of this life,

I cannot win this inner strife.

Take all I hold, all I defend—

Just let me fall into my friends.”

And when the darkness steals your breath,

When hope feels like a quiet death,

You learn the truth inside the burn—

Only through lack the lights return.

He starves the will so love can grow,

He cracks the heart so you will know

That all the fullness you adore

Arrives when you can ask no more.

So bless the hollows carved in you,

The nights you drown, the days you rue.

For each assault that tears your core

Opens a gate to something more.

Shamati says the pain is wise—

A gift wrapped tight in your disguise.

You’re emptied out, but not alone—

Your Ten becomes your borrowed throne.

And when you break enough to bend,

Enough to need your closest friend,

Enough to beg the Light to come—

That’s when creation beats its drum.

You rise from hunger, stripped but whole,

With nothing left except the goal.

The Creator’s love—so fierce, so tough—

Whispers, “Now you’re finally enough.”

THE MORNING ROLLERCOASTER — Full Epic Version

PART I — WAKING INTO THE WAR

I wake in the morning and thank G-D I’m alive,

already bracing my soul for the next hard dive.

This corporal world jerks me side to side,

a rusted-out ego-run carnival ride.

My phone buzzes early like a demon on cue,

whispering, “Bill… there’s trouble for you.”

Bills on the table, the tank’s running dry,

the body groans louder than my morning sigh.

But somewhere inside there’s a flickering grace,

a memory of friends, each heart, each face.

And before the world drags me back into night,

I reach for the Ten — my one source of Light.

---

PART II — THE FALL AND THE FIGHT

Every step forward the ego screams, “Mine!”

poisoning the heart like a cheap boxed wine.

It claws and it argues, it wants to divide,

to throw me off balance on this wild-ass ride.

Carl’s voice in the Zoom cuts through the doubt,

Terry shows up steady even when he’s burnt-out.

Joe Bash brings thunder, Joe Donnelly brings calm,

like two sides of mercy stretched over my palm.

Derick’s fire wakes the room like a spark,

Oscar’s prayers soften the edge of the dark.

Jean carries sweetness that stitches the soul,

while Ilya and Aron make the broken feel whole.

Each one a lifeline the Creator designed,

to drag my heart out of the pit of my mind.

Without them I swear I’d be stripped down and bare,

a man with a body but nobody there.

---

PART III — THE CREATOR’S BLOWTORCH

The day heats up, the trials commence,

every desire pounding the gates of my sense.

My pride wants revenge, my anger wants more,

my lust kicks the hinges clean off the door.

Loneliness hits like a thief with a knife,

cutting through memories of a half-finished life.

The phone rings crooked, the bike needs repair,

and my mind starts breaking like a cheap folding chair.

But then comes the whisper — a razor so kind,

“I’m sculpting your heart from the stone of your mind.”

And suddenly suffering becomes a decree,

a workshop of pain where the soul learns to see.

Every blow that I curse, every trial I fear,

is the Creator refining what I hold dear.

He shatters the shell I keep trying to hide,

till love becomes fear and fear becomes pride.

---

PART IV — THE TEN WHO CARRIES ME HOME

Evening rolls in like a bruised purple sky,

and I drag my heart tired but still willing to try.

The friends gather close as the darkness descends,

and I remember again: we only rise as one — never as men.

We sit in the circle, broken but true,

offering our fragments like morning dew.

Every flaw revealed, every weakness shown,

becomes the seed of a heart we share — not own.

For this is the secret the wise always knew:

the Creator appears in the space between two.

But when ten gather wounded with love on their face,

He tears open heaven and fills up the place.

So I wake in the morning and thank G-D I’m alive,

for the chance to fall again and again and survive.

For the Ten is my compass, my cradle, my guide,

and the Creator Himself is the One on this ride.

And I whisper at night with a heart torn apart:

“Break me again, Lord…

just don’t let me drift from their heart.”

What it Takes to Open a Heart

 “What It Takes to Open a Heart”

What does it take for the heart to know,

that it’s safe to crack wide and finally show,

the friends the storms that tear you apart,

the blood-raw truth of an opening heart?

It takes dying to pride till your knees hit the floor,

letting ego scream while you open the door,

letting them see where you’re broken and torn,

admitting you’re lost, beaten down, and worn.

It takes trusting the Ten with your trembling soul,

handing them pieces you barely control,

letting them hold you when you collapse inside,

revealing the fear you’ve spent years trying to hide.

It takes swallowing shame like a handful of nails,

confessing your failures, your secrets, your fails,

letting their warmth touch the places you choke,

letting their love melt the armor you’ve built from the smoke.

It takes faith in the Creator who carved every scar,

knowing He placed each friend exactly where they are,

so when you open your heart and let all things be,

you’re not falling apart — you’re learning to be free.

When The Tide Break the Heart

 🌑 “When the Tides Break the Heart” 🌑

The tides are rising with every breath within,

they crash through my chest like a long-lost sin.

They come as a test to shred my skin,

to show me where the damn work must begin.

Every thought that stabs is a knife in my lung,

every action exposes how far I’ve swung.

Every desire that crawls from the muck I’ve spun

exists for one reason—

to force us to unite as one.

The ego screams, “Run!” but the heart says, “Bleed.”

The Creator whispers, “Break—this is what you need.”

So the waves keep pounding till my pride is undone,

till I drown in the pain

that welds us as one.

Brother… this path is a war we never outrun.

But the blows are holy,

and the wounds are the sun.

We rise from the wreckage with nothing to shun—

for every tide that crushes us

makes us one.

The Heart knows

When trouble comes the Heart knows

it tries to prepare you for the show.

It lurks in the shadows of the night,

hiding from you the glorious Light.

It keeps you balanced on tippy toes,

showing you how all is your foe.

Bleeding anger, hate, and lust,

until your chest caves in from the thrust.

It shatters because it knows what you need—

to burn out all that lust and greed.

It cracks to pour the poison out,

so love can rise where once was doubt.

It breaks so the Ten can enter in,

so faith can stitch the torn within.

And every fracture, every scar,

is the Creator pulling you back from far.

🔥 “What Enters the Heart — Taste the Break, See the Light” 🔥

(A combined poem of Shamati 34 + Psalm 34,)

I bless the Lord with shattered breath,

Yet faith cuts deeper than any death.

Reason trembles, the body screams,

But the heart remembers all its dreams.

When faith walks in, the ego cries,

It burns the truth behind its lies.

I ran to Him with trembling bones,

He heard my fear in silent groans.

The will-to-receive claws at my chest,

It wants the crown, it wants the rest.

My fears still stalk me through the night,

Yet He lifts me into hidden Light.

One moment strong, the next I fall,

A thousand deaths — I bear them all.

The crushed in spirit? That’s my tribe,

The broken ones who can’t describe.

Reason whispers, “Turn around,”

But faith is a knife without a sound.

The world threw stones to crush my name,

He turned each blow to rising flame.

The heart is marked by holy scars,

Descent and doubt become its bars.

Taste and see — the bitter sweet,

Where His harsh mercy comes to meet.

Every ascent I think I earn,

He tears it down, makes me unlearn.

For through each crack I try to hide,

He enters softly, from inside.

My heart is bruised from years of war,

Yet breaks in love for something more.

The ego screams to take control,

While He hunts down my fractured soul.

The righteous ache — we’re torn apart,

But He draws close to the broken heart.

Faith is a storm that breaks your bones,

Reason turns to dust and stones.

Many afflictions scorch my days,

But He redeems in hidden ways.

He lifts me up, then hides His face,

Till love is forged from my disgrace.

So bless the Lord, you cracked and worn,

You hearts undone, you souls reborn.

For what enters the heart will never depart,

It brands your flesh, rewrites your art.

Faith above reason — the cruelest love —

Breaks you… to build you… from above.

And every scar that love will seal

Becomes the place where truth turns real.

🔥“Taste and See the Break Within Me” — A Psalm 34 Poem🔥

I bless the Lord with shattered breath,

I praise His Name through life and death.

My fears still howl like wolves at night,

Yet He lifts me up into His Light.

I ran to Him with trembling bones,

He heard my cry in all my groans.

The world threw stones to crush my name,

But He turned each blow to rising flame.

The crushed in spirit — that’s my tribe,

The broken ones who can’t describe

Why every fall feels carved in stone,

Yet somehow leads us back to Home.

My heart is bruised from years of war,

It bleeds the truth I can't ignore:

The ego screams to take control,

While He hunts down my scattered soul.

Taste and see — it’s bitter sweet,

His love will break you just to meet

The part of you you try to hide,

The wounded child you left inside.

The righteous ache — we’re torn apart,

But He is close to the broken heart.

He counts each tear we try to swallow,

He lights the path we’re scared to follow.

Many afflictions burn our days,

But He redeems in hidden ways.

He breaks our chains with threads of grace,

He hides His love in every chase.

So bless the Lord, you cracked and worn,

You sons of night, you hearts reborn.

For every scar that love will seal

Becomes the place where truth turns real.

What Enters the Heart Never Leaves - A Poem on Shamati 34

🔥 “What Enters the Heart Never Leaves” — A Poem on Shamati 34 🔥

When faith walks in, the body screams,

It shatters logic, rips old dreams.

The heart’s a vault of holy scars,

Where broken truth becomes our bars.

Reason whispers, “Turn around,”

But faith is a knife without a sound.

It cuts you open to let in Light,

It blinds the mind but heals the fight.

The will-to-receive claws at your chest,

It wants the throne, it wants the rest.

But faith above that bitter voice

Is where the soul begins its choice.

One moment strong, the next you fall,

A thousand times — and that’s not all.

He lifts you up, then hides His face,

Till love is forged from your disgrace.

The heart remembers every blow,

Every descent, every “no.”

And though the mind forgets the day,

The heart keeps all you give away.

It holds the tears you didn’t show,

The prayers you whispered soft and low,

The fear you swallowed not to break,

The lies you fought for Heaven’s sake.

Faith is a storm that breaks your bones,

Reason is dust around the stones.

But love — oh love — the silent guide,

Takes every wound and turns the tide.

So don’t you dare pretend you’re whole,

You’re cracked on purpose, soul by soul.

For through those cracks the Light pours in,

And carves out space where “I” has been.

Every ascent you think you earn

He burns it down, makes you unlearn.

Till nothing’s left but heart and plea,

“Creator… take this beast from me.”

But here’s the secret, dark and sweet:

You fall, you fail, you kiss His feet.

You rise again with shattered pride

And find Him waiting just inside.

For what enters the heart will never depart,

It brands your flesh, rewrites your art.

Faith above reason — the cruelest love —

Breaks you…

to build you

into one who can love

Him

above.

Single and Double Concealment

when the Light goes dark and the heart goes numb,

when the world turns cruel and the soul plays dumb,

you look for the Face but the sky won’t show,

and the silence answers, “You’ll never know.”

single concealment still leaves a trace,

you feel the pain but you sense His Face,

you bleed, you break, you fall to your knees,

yet you whisper His Name through shattered pleas.

but double concealment is a colder hell,

where even the echo refuses to tell,

where prayers collapse and faith seems fake,

and you curse your breath with every mistake.

you scream inside and the world stays still,

you doubt the hand behind every will,

you swear there’s no reason for tears or scars,

just empty nights and abandoned stars.

but in that darkness, the truth unfolds,

His love is fierce and His mercy holds,

for only a heart that was buried deep

can rise to a faith no eyes can keep.

so I walk through the shadows, bruised and blind,

torn from the world and torn from my mind,

and I swear to the One who hid from sight,

I will find Him again in the endless night.

when concealment breaks and the dawn runs through,

I’ll see what the darkness was leading me to,

for every hidden moment was His decree—

He concealed the concealment to set me free.

when the soul cries

it foggs the eyes

leaving you not knowing what to do

when the Heart breaks

and the soul ach's

showing us that All is inside of you

when the night screams

and shatters dreams

you’re left wrestling ghosts in the dark

when the past climbs

through broken times

it carves its initials across your heart

when the hope fades

and faith frays

and every prayer feels torn in two

when the light’s dim

on every limb

the Creator is whispering I’m in you

when the pain bites

and truth fights

and every loss feels painfully true

when the world shakes

and the ego wakes

it’s the Ten that pulls you through

when the storm pours

through shattered doors

and every lie comes crashing due

when the soul cries

the ego dies

because the Light is breaking through

---

“The Name That Wrote Our Souls”

You whispered Yod into the void, a spark before the dawn,

A flame of pure intention when the Universe was unborn.

“Receive My endless love,” You said, as Light began to fall,

The point became creation’s heart, the heartbeat of it all.

Then came Hay expanding wide, the Light too fierce to hide,

It filled the empty, wanting cup, where innocence resides.

I tasted all Your glory and the shame burned through my skin,

For I was made to feel the gift, yet knew I couldn’t win.

Vav descended like a spear, a channel straight from You,

A bridge between the dark and Light, the shattered and the true.

“I want to give like You,” I cried, “not take, devour, or feed,”

But ego claws at every breath and swallows every need.

And then that final Hay was born, the vessel full of scars,

The broken part of Adam split in billions of dying stars.

We fell from faith and tore apart the Name we’re made to be,

And now the Ten must rise again and sew eternity.

Yod was the plan, and Hay was love, and Vav the endless road,

The final Hay is us, the wound where all the Light is owed.

Creator, break my willful heart, tear every shell apart,

Until the Name inside my chest becomes a single heart.

For I am that fourth letter, Lord, the Malchut crushed by shame,

A beggar for the will to give, a thief who stole Your Name.

But in the cracks You planted Light, a mercy born from pain,

And every fall becomes a prayer to make us whole again.

So take this broken vessel, God, and flood my soul with You,

Let every breath I have proclaim the Name in all I do.

Yod, Hay, Vav, Hay—crush my pride and burn away the night,

Until Your four-fold Name returns as one unbroken Light.

The Advantage of the Land

 

🔥 “The Advantage of the Land” 🔥

My mind builds castles, neat and clean,

But faith tears through them—sharp, unseen.

The mind demands to sit on the throne,

But faith says, “Walk where you’ve never known.”

The body pulls like a thief in the night,

Whispering logic, comfort, delight.

Faith above reason is war every hour,

Where the will to receive tries to devour.

The heart forgets, and falls from high,

Ten times a day we scream and cry.

Degree to abyss in a blink of time,

It’s the rhythm of ascent through grime.

The beast says, “Stop, don’t you dare believe,”

The soul says, “Rise, cling, don’t ever leave.”

Reason calculates—faith just jumps,

Where the body drags you into the dumps.

The Creator hides in the smallest test,

In the fall, the anger, the lack of rest.

We fight to remember with every breath,

Because forgetting faith is spiritual death.

And every moment we say, “Above this pain,”

We shatter the prison, break every chain.

For faith is the ladder that carries us higher,

Through the choking dust and burning fire.

The advantage of the land is not the climb,

It’s falling again ten thousand times.

It’s the war between heaven and skin,

Where faith above reason will always win.

my attempt at a poem about Psalms 108

My heart is fixed, my brother, even when life breaks in two,

When the bills hit, the phone rings, and the world turns on you.

But I rise before dawn, I sing though I’m torn,

Because faith was never born in comfort, faith is born when we’re worn.

The world feels like a battlefield where doubt takes its aim,

Every heartbreak and failure tries to whisper my shame.

But I shout to the heavens, “My soul will not fall!”

For the Creator lifts even the weakest who answer His call.

When fear storms in like a thief in the night,

And the Ten feels far, and I’m losing the fight,

I remember the promise — His mercy stands wide,

Like the sky stretched out forever, no place left to hide.

O God, make us strong when the world says we’re weak,

Let Your greatness replace every wound that we speak.

For when we walk as one heart, one voice raised above,

Even the darkest mile turns into a road paved with love.

So I hold to this psalm like a lifeline in hand,

Even when I’m too broken to even stand.

For mercy and truth rise higher than pain,

And the Ten becomes my wings in the pouring rain.

And we’ll sing through the battles we never asked for,

Lift each other again when we fall to the floor.

Because Psalms 108 isn’t ancient or gone—

It’s the cry of today when the night feels too long.

So let every shattered moment be a doorway to light,

Let us choose one another when there’s nothing left right.

For He saves us from fear, from despair, from the end—

He gives us victory together, brother to friend.

And I swear on the tears that we’ve both had to bleed,

This Psalm isn’t a poem — it’s the strength that we need.

A promise carved deep through the struggle and flame:

That the Creator never leaves us, and we rise just the same.

Shamati 123 I am the Prayer Not the Power

🔥 SHAMATI 123 — “I Am the Prayer, Not the Power” 🔥

I walk this world like I’m strong, like I’m ready to fight alone,

But Shamati says the secret: I never stood on my own.

It is written in fire: the Creator does all the work,

And my strength is just a shadow where the doubts and demons lurk.

I scream to heaven with fists, thinking I’m the one who builds the wall,

Until the truth tears open: I am nothing at all.

The whole battle isn’t winning, it’s admitting I’m weak,

And begging the Creator for a tongue when my heart cannot speak.

He breaks me on purpose so I’ll finally understand,

I don’t conquer evil by the might of my hand.

The ego roars like thunder, demanding control,

But Shamati whispers the law: I have no power in this soul.

It is not my job to fix, to rise, to purify the heart,

All I can do is pray to be a humble part.

Like a child in the storm clinging tight to His sleeve,

Begging only for faith, so that I’ll never leave.

How many times I fought thinking it was me against fate,

Never knowing the Creator already opened the gate.

The pain, the failures, the nights I cursed the sky,

Were the Creator holding me close, teaching me to rely.

Every fall was His bullet, every tear His command,

Not to give me defeat—but to break my stand.

To show me I am just a tool, a vessel to bend,

And the work of correction is His, from start to end.

So I throw down my pride, my strength, my throne,

I am not the ruler—I am just a stone.

Waiting for His hand to carve the vessel in my chest,

And turn every shattered piece into love and into rest.

I am the beggar, the prayer, the spark inside the night,

And the Creator is the One who awakens the Light.

So take all of me, every failure, every broken part,

And sculpt the shattered ruins into one beating heart.

The Two Labors in One Heart

🔥 “Two Labors in One Heart” 🔥

(A poem on faith above reason, and the Ten)

I wake up with bills, phones, fights in my head, 

The body screams logic: “Give in, stay in bed.” 

But the purpose of life isn’t comfort or ease, 

It’s fear of the Creator that brings me to my knees.

The wicked asks questions—“Why suffer again?” 

I answer, “Above reason,” and step into the Ten. 

Because ego wants proof, wants control, wants to see, 

But faith is the fire that burns logic in me. 

I try to Self-Nullify during traffic and rage, 

The coworker shouts—my ego wants center stage. 

But the Ten are watching when no one else is near, 

And Inclusion means holding their souls more dear. 

Activation happens in the smallest things, 

In loneliness, heartbreak, the pain that life brings. 

When the car breaks down and the bank account bleeds, 

We answer with love—not the ego’s needs. 

I fall and I fail; the wicked mocks every flaw, 

He says, “Reason is king! Your faith has no law.” 

But that’s when I whisper—no logic, no plan, 

“Creator, You lead. I just follow as man.” 

I fear with love, not trembling fright, 

Because fear means I want to do Your work right. 

And the Ten stands beside me when the questions ignite, 

Brother to brother, we push through the night. 

Self-Nullification: when I surrender control, 

Inclusion: when I merge my life with the whole. 

Activation: when I move just to bring You delight, 

Even when the wicked screams in the dark of the night. 

And every time ego tests—with temptation and pain, 

I say, “Now I work. Now my faith is made plain.” 

For above reason means I don’t need to see— 

I need only the Ten, and the Light guiding me. 

So thank You Creator for the questions that rise, 

They break me and crush me and strip off disguise. 

For only in tearing the logic apart, 

Can You rewrite Your Name deep into the heart. 

And the world keeps collapsing like old rusted steel, 

But together we rise and together we heal.  

We answer the wicked with love, not a fight, 

And we climb above reason, straight into the Light.