poem 6 Shamati + Psalms

Shamati 31 – Cleaving to the Light

Psalm 84 – How Lovely Is Your Dwelling Place

My soul’s desire: to cleave to Light,

To dwell where day outshines the night.

Through cracks of ego, glimpses gleam,

Of a home beyond the mortal dream.

“How lovely is,” the Psalm declares,

Your dwelling place — free from despairs.

Each heart united with Divine,

Finds rest in ways beyond time.

Not stone nor temple walls suffice,

But souls in union: pure, precise.

When ten hearts beat in unison,

The Highest Home in us is won.

We journey not for self but all,

Ascending where the lights recall,

Our sacred place of unity,

Where dwellings shine in sanctity.

Poem 5 Shamati + Psalms

Shamati 27 – Unification in the Ten

Psalm 133 – How Good and Pleasant

“How good and pleasant,” the Psalmist cried,

When brothers dwell with hearts untied.

Unity — not in words alone,

But in a soul where love is grown.

The Ten arise as mirrors true,

Reflecting self in each other’s view.

When ego fades, we find one goal:

To heal the heart, to cleanse the soul.

Like morning dew on Zion’s hills,

This union deeper meaning fills.

Our greatest ritual is not law,

But friendship’s bond that conquers flaw.

Together bound, together free,

Through giving self to harmony.

How good it is, how sweet the sound,

When Heaven’s breath on us is found.

Poem 4 Shamati + Psalms

Shamati 26 – The Inner Thought

Psalm 121 – I Lift Up My Eyes to the Hills

Each restless thought within my breast,

Seeks power, light, a fleeting rest.

Yet all thoughts rise, then fall away,

Unless the heart joins what we pray.

“I lift my eyes to hills,” he said,

But strength flows not from mount ahead.

The help I claim lies not in height,

But in shared breath, in friends’ delight.

Within the Ten, my soul takes flight,

When inner thought aligns with Light.

No lonely path, no distant call—

But unity that lifts us all.

Ever watchful, ever near,

The Inner Thought dissolves my fear.

Not in the peaks, but in the symphony,

Of hearts as one, in proximity.

Poem 3 Shamati + Psalms

Shamati 24 – He Will Save Them from the Hand of the Wicked

Psalm 51 – Create in Me a Clean Heart, O God

Ego prowls with cunning might,

Whispers chains into the night.

The wicked hand would tear apart,

But prayer breaks through a shattered heart.

“Create in me,” the Psalmist pleads,

“A heart made pure, a soul that bleeds.”

Not for myself, but for the Ten,

Renew my spirit once again.

The hand of the wicked — my will to receive,

It mocks, it tempts, it makes me grieve.

Yet when I fall, His mercy is near,

He saves, He lifts, He draws me clear.

O cleanse me deep, O hide Thy face,

Until I cling through friends’ embrace.

No sacrifice, no offering grand,

But a broken spirit in His hand.

He saves us still, His love imparts,

Through one pure cry — ten beating hearts.

Poem 2. Shamati + Psalms

Shamati 19 – What Is the Creator’s Honor in the Torah

Psalm 27 – The Lord Is My Light and My Salvation

My soul cries out, “What honor is His?”

Is it in wisdom, or knowledge, or bliss?

No — His glory dwells where hearts unite,

In vessels broken, we find His light.

“The Lord is my light,” the Psalmist sang,

Through trembling halls, his prayer out rang.

Salvation shines when self is gone,

When many become a single song.

The honor of Torah is not in the page,

But in hearts that annul, stage by stage.

I seek His beauty, I seek His face,

Through friends’ embrace, I find His grace.

Though armies rise, though doubts surround,

Within the Ten, His strength is found.

One desire — to dwell all days,

In the Creator’s house of endless praise.

Poem 1 combination of shamati and psalms in poem form

Shamati 1 – There Is None Else Besides Him

Psalm 23 – The Lord Is My Shepherd

When shadows fall and fear takes hold,

My ego whispers tales of old.

Yet in the dark, one truth I find,

No power but His shapes my mind.

He leads me down the valley deep,

Through tears I sow, through nights I weep.

Beside still waters, I hear His call,

“There is none else,” He rules it all.

The rod, the staff, they break my pride,

They wound my heart yet guard my side.

In the Ten, His table’s spread,

From bitter doubts to faith I’m fed.

Even when death’s shadow is near,

I find the Shepherd’s hand sincere.

No force but His — so I confess,

“There is none else,” my soul finds rest.

The Accuser's Dance

“The Accuser’s Dance”

It drags me low, whispers of gain,

My heart is torn by hunger and pain.

I fight alone, but always lose,

The serpent laughs at the paths I choose.

It rises high to the throne above,

Accusing me, denying love.

“You see?” it cries, “He cannot stand,

He builds on dust, not on holy land.”

I break, I fall, I cannot pretend,

Without my brothers there is no end.

But in the Ten, a spark ignites,

Together we wrestle the endless night.

First comes Hitbatlut—I bow my head,

My pride dissolves, my self is dead.

Then Hitkalelut—I weave with friends,

Their voices heal, the fracture mends.

And Hitpa’alut—their fire burns,

From their devotion, my soul returns.

The accuser flees, the cry takes flight,

A prayer is born in the heart’s twilight.

Now rise, my friends, as one we call,

Creator hears the plea of all.

From descent to ascent, the secret’s clear:

Through unity alone, the Light draws near.