Psalms In The Heart

We lifted a prayer without a sound, For friends whose faces were not around. Not asking for comfort, not asking for gain, Only that our hearts be joined again. Days passed quietly, one by one, Never knowing what the Creator had done. Yet deep within His hidden plan, He guided each step of every man. Then suddenly joy filled the room, Replacing distance, removing gloom. Jean returned with an open heart, And Oscar came to take his part. No one can measure the gift we received, Or the prayer that the Creator conceived. For what seemed lost was never gone, It simply waited to be drawn. Now the ten feels warmer, stronger, whole, As gratitude rises from every soul. Not for numbers, not for pride, But for the love the Creator placed inside. So today our hearts together sing, To the One who arranges everything. With thanks beyond what words can say, For gathering His friends this day. The vessel grows, the bond runs deep, Through every promise we strive to keep. And with grateful hearts we cle...

A farmer plants a seed in spring, Though no green leaf is there. He waters earth he cannot trust, Yet tends it with his care. A sailor leaves the harbor shore, Though storms may fill the sea. He follows stars he cannot hold, Believing what will be. A father works from dawn till dusk, His hands are worn and sore. He cannot see tomorrow's bread, Yet knocks on duty's door. So walks the soul upon the path, When darkness fills the eyes. Not knowing where the next step lands, Yet turning toward the skies. And righteousness is not a crown, Nor something one can claim. It is the heart that justifies The One behind the game. To say, "Whatever comes today, I still will hold the line. Your wisdom sees what I cannot, Your purpose is divine." Then peace arrives without a sound, Like evening after rain. Not because every problem's gone, Or life is free from pain. But because the heart has learned at last What all the sages knew: The hand that asks, the faith that grows, And the...

When I Think of the Creator When I think of the Creator, He won't let me sleep Through it all, Torah and Mitzvot I keep Never forgetting where I belong My heart keeps singing the same old song The world grows quiet, the night grows deep Yet thoughts of connection I gladly keep For somewhere beyond what these eyes can see A path of love is calling me The ego whispers, "Rest awhile" But the point in the heart won't reconcile It longs to rise, it longs to start To join the friends with one common heart Each friend a candle, each prayer a flame Though we are many, the goal's the same To build a vessel strong and true Where love of others can break through So if I wander or lose my way The Ten reminds me where I must stay And every longing, every tear Becomes a call for the Creator to hear For when I think of the Creator above I feel His answer through the friends' love And sleepless nights no longer seem wrong For that's exactly where I belong.

  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....