The Torah’s not stories carved in stone,
It’s a whisper inside, a path to the Throne.
It points to the heart where the shadows reside,
And shines with a Light that corrects us inside.
We read not for wisdom, nor tales to adore,
But to summon a force that can open the door.
The ego resists, it laughs, “Not today!”
Yet the Light says, “My child, I’ll show you the way.”
The Torah’s an indication, not the prize we hold,
It’s the lamp in the night, turning iron to gold.
With friends by our side, in unity’s flame,
We rewrite our nature, we’re no longer the same.
So with humor and pain, with longing and song,
We chase not the stories we’ve carried so long.
But the Light that reforms, that teaches to give,
In love of the other—we start to truly live.
