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The Gift They Spit On

By William S. Becker -
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....
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PEACE IN THE WORLD — HASTEN OR BLEED

By William S. Becker -
 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...
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The Key Is The Ten

By William S. Becker -
  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.
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ONE MAN, ONE HEART, ONE GOAL

By William S. Becker -
  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
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Broken First

By William S. Becker -
BROKEN FIRST Broken first, I learned to cry From self to dust, I asked not why When lack got real, the heavens moved And through that pain—the heart was proved I came in full of teeth and pride A throne of self I held inside Certain my hands could force the gate But iron hearts don’t enter straight So down I fell through reason’s floor Each answer died, then died once more The mind grew weak, the body screamed And all I built came unstitched seams I cursed the dark, I cursed the flame Till both revealed—they spoke my name Not to destroy, but strip the lie That lives each time I ask “for why?” The ten stood near like mirrors hard Not praising wounds, not dropping guard They showed me what I could not see— The cruelest cage… was only me I begged for love but sought control I spoke of truth while hiding soul I wanted light to fill my cup Yet would not break the bottom up Then exile dug its fingers deep No borrowed strength, no stolen sleep And from that pit where pride was slain A ...
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THE SYSTEM — PERFECTLY BUILT

By William S. Becker -
 I was born inside a system vast, So perfect—future, present, past. A woven force no eye can trace, Yet every breath reveals its place. Not chaos. Not mistake. Not chance. But law so pure all worlds must dance. A single Thought, a force bestowed, That built the path each soul must road. First came the hunger—to receive, A crafted lack so we believe. Not curse, not flaw, not shameful scar, But vessel built to seek afar. For what is Light if none should crave? What is the Gift if none can save? Bestowal formed creation’s sea, But built the need through you and me. The will to take—our nature’s core, The empty knock upon the door. Yet Kabbalah reveals the key: The flaw’s not thirst—but “only me.” For here’s the work most never see: To shape desire intentionally. Not kill the will, nor cast aside, But raise its use, correct its pride. To take this vessel, cracked and wild, And aim it like a faithful child. Not for myself, not fleeting gain, But to return Love back again. Through...
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The Two Kings Within

By William S. Becker -
 THE TWO KINGS WITHIN Inside my chest two rulers fight One sells me dark, One calls me light One says “Take more, this world is mine” One whispers “Rise… your will align” The body bows where habit leads To ego’s throne, to selfish needs And every time I seek the King The serpent wakes with sharper sting For Pharaoh grows when truth draws near He builds through doubt, through pain, through fear He shows me all I’ve yet to mend So suffering becomes a friend Idol worship lives inside When self alone becomes my guide Not stone or gold—but “me” on high The cruelest false god money can’t buy So Torah is not words we say But war through every living day Who rules this heart? Who wears the crown? The one I lift… or drag back down And when I see how far I’ve gone How weak by night, how false by dawn That pain itself becomes the gate A cry for truth… before too late For evil grows when I choose right Not to destroy—but bring to light That I may know what must be burned So all desire can be r...
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