The Debt of the Light

 “The Debt of the Light”

I begged, I wept, I called His name,

and suddenly the heavens came.

A flash of warmth, a holy breeze—

I thought I’d found eternal ease.

But the Light that comes without my sweat

is a loan the soul will soon regret.

For every spark I did not earn

must burn me back until I learn.

The prayer was sweet, the labor spared,

but later came the weight I dared.

The debt collectors of the night—

They take from me my borrowed light.

The heart must bleed to make a Kli,

the vessel forged in agony.

Each tear a coin, each sigh a fee,

for Love’s true home is poverty.

So don’t believe what shines too fast,

the Light unearned will never last.

Labor till your bones are numb,

till every “I” is overcome.

Then when the darkness starts to sing,

and ego dies beneath its sting,

the Light returns—but now it’s yours,

engraved in toil, not Heaven’s stores.

Only he who pays in pain

can keep the joy that’s born from strain.

The debt of Light is love’s decree—

I labored, found—now I believe.