Oh, soul, you clumsy spark of light,
Dropped from the heavens, a comical sight!
You tripped on a star, fell into this clay,
Now stuck in a body, you grumble all day.
“Why this mess?” you moan with a frown,
This world’s a circus, and I’m the clown!
(Humor’s the balm when the ego’s a pain,
You laugh through the mud, or you’ll go insane.)
Love calls you softly, a whisper, a flame,
“Connect with the others, forget your own name!”
Baal HaSulam nods from his perch in the sky,
“Give up your ‘me,’ and your soul will fly high.”
You try, oh you try, with a heart full of care,
But your neighbor’s loud snoring? Too much to bear!
Yet love’s the glue, the spark, the divine,
It stitches the world with a thread so fine.
Sorrow creeps in, like a thief in the night,
The soul feels the fracture, the absence of light.
You chase fleeting pleasures, but they slip away,
Like sand through your fingers, they just won’t stay.
“Why this longing?” you cry, with a tear-streaked face,
This world feels too heavy, too cruel a place.
Baal HaSulam whispers, “That pain’s your guide,
It points to the truth you’ve buried inside.”
Pain, oh the pain, it’s the ego’s sharp sting,
Each selfish desire pulls a tight, bitter string.
But here’s the secret, the Kabbalist’s art:
The hurt’s just a map to your wandering heart.
Trade “I” for “we,” let your soul take the leap,
Find joy in the giving, though the climb may be steep.
With a wink and a sigh, you’ll laugh at the strain,
For love heals the sorrow, and light soothes the pain.
So dance, little soul, through this wild, messy show,
With humor to lighten, and love’s gentle glow.
Sorrow and pain are your teachers, your friends,
They carve out the path where the ego’s reign ends.
Baal HaSulam smiles, his ladder in view,
“Climb, spark of Light—your Creator waits for you!”
