Psalms In The Heart

  The Flow Chart I spent my life with grease-stained hands, Following lines no man commands. A truck rolls in, the engine dies, The answer's never in the cries. Check the fuel and check the spark, Follow the path through light and dark. A dead battery won't start a ride, No matter how much pride's inside. A broken wire, a cracked fuel line, Each fault revealed one step at a time. Then Rav would speak, and I would see, The same damn chart inside of me. Friend rejects friend, the ego roars, So check the heart before the doors. Can't find love? Then check your pride. Can't see truth? The self's inside. If connection fails, don't blame the ten, Go back and trace the chart again. Annul. Include. Enliven. Pray. The pathway's always been that way. The mechanic and the sage agree: Every repair starts honestly. And when the vessel's torn apart, The Creator works... through every part.

  I came with fish clenched hard in hand, Certain my hunger should command. He wanted dogs, another route— And ego rose with sacred doubt. I thought the war was food or place, Not Pharaoh screaming for first place. I called it “truth,” “concern,” “what’s best”— But self sat grinning in my chest. The Ten said move. I wanted still. The Rosh spoke clear. I fought his will. Not with fists—much worse than that— A silent “yes”… while pride fought back. For brutal is the path of few: Not proving that my choice is true, But crucifying inner throne To build one heart above my own. What is fish? What are hot dogs? Dust. What is “my way”? A serpent’s lust. The meal’s not holy—the work is where I kill the tyrant hiding there. Before the choice, I speak my part. I bring my thought, my mind, my heart. But once the head has drawn the line— His path, for us, must now be mine. Because a body torn by pride Leaves Light outside with self inside. A thousand “rights” can break the chain, While o...

THE GIFT THEY SPIT ON I came with fire cupped in broken hands, Not gold, not pride—just what love demands. A verse, a song, a cry for us, To lift dead hearts from dust to trust. But some men laughed before they heard, Killed the gift before the word. Called it trash, then shut the gate, As if contempt could conquer fate. “Don’t bring your shit,” the body cried, While Rav’s own words they cast aside. “We don’t care what Rav has said”— So ego crowned the living dead. And still I came. Still took my seat. Still dragged my shattered soul to meet. Not for honor. Not for praise. But because love must walk through hate. I watched the numbers slowly rise, From two cold hearts to seven eyes. So maybe every stone they threw Was building something strong and true. Still—it cuts. Like teeth in bone. To give your heart and stand alone. To bring a gift from love’s own thread, And have your brothers wish it dead. But here’s the brutal truth I’ve learned: The friend who’s crushed is where faith burns....

 We praise the Light, then crawl like dust, Begging the fire while serving lust. The Creator’s great—but not by word, By what breaks inside when truth is heard. Two roads were carved before man’s feet: Hasten the soul—or suffer defeat. Achishena burns through chosen flame, Be’ito drags through sorrow and shame. The whip still strikes the one who waits, Time don’t knock—it devastates. Pain’s the teacher when pride won’t bend, Till shattered bones cry out for Ten. Society ain’t some social chair, It’s the forge that proves your prayer. What you breathe into hearts nearby, Returns as wings—or leaves you dry. If I bring fire, they hand me sun. If I bring self, I come undone. A man alone feeds death its due, But Ten makes old creation new. The world finds peace when each one knows: The Creator’s greatness is what grows. Not through fear, nor empty cry— But lifting friends until self dies. So damn my laziness, scorch my pride, Don’t let “in time” become my ride. I choose the path w...

  THE KEY IS THE TEN I came with a mouth full of holy sound, But Heaven weighed what my heart had found. Not polished prayers or wisdom’s art— He reads the hunger behind the heart. The sages lit what I could not see, Faith is the road when blind is me. Not what I say, but what I crave, Decides if I stay a slave. The Creator knows the lacking flame, Before my lips can speak His Name. He sees if I seek for self—or bend My broken will into the Ten. For every thought and every deed, Is measured by the root of need. And what I plant in friends today, Becomes the path or blocks the way. The Ten’s not friends for comfort’s sake, They are the gate my soul must make. The key ain’t mine when locked apart— I place it whole in the common heart. So if I hunger, let it be For faith above what’s shown to me. For what I give, I’ll one day see— The Ten unlocks eternity.

  ONE MAN, ONE HEART, ONE GOAL No one climbs this mountain alone A single spark won’t make it home Ten broken hands, ten stubborn scars Must choose one fire—not separate stars Not just to feel… not just to hear But speak it plain so all are clear Discuss the path, agree as one One goal before the race is run Congress ain’t waiting for maybe or when The work is now—between the ten Not one can hide in private thought The common goal must all be sought I thought my road was mine to bear My own small cry, my secret prayer But Rav struck deep—no soul can start Till all agree with one shared heart So gather now, no silent nod No drifting will can reach the God Speak it. Hold it. Make it whole. One man. One heart. One chosen goal. No one can do it alone—now see The gate won’t open for only me We speak, agree, and choose the key Ten become one… and He will be לא לבד, לא לבד נעלה רק יחד מטרה אחת נגלה כאיש אחד בלב אחד שם הבורא יהיה לעד