From a Seeker’s View

I stood before the Pharaoh in me,

His voice was sharp, his words cut free:

“Who is the Lord that you should serve?

Your longing’s weak, your will has no nerve.”

I turned, I fought, I pushed through the night,

Yet another arose to weaken my sight:

Sihon and Og, they whispered within,

“Israel in you is too frail to win.

The goal is high, the path is steep,

Leave it to others, their roots run deep.

You’re small, unworthy, a broken flame,

Why dare to walk the Creator’s name?”

Between their words my heart grew tight,

I felt no strength, no spark, no light.

Yet a whisper stirred, so soft, so near:

“Above all reason, the truth is clear.

No might, no power, no lion’s roar,

But faith alone can open the door.

The hand of the Creator lifts the weak,

And gives the words my soul must speak.

So I walk in trust, though blind I go,

Above the heart, above what I know.

For He alone can break their rod,

And guide my steps to the path of God.”

The Torah is an Indication

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.

In the Fog We Find the Light

My head is a storm, my thoughts are unclear,

The path disappears, yet the friends are near.

Confusion is heavy, it bends me low,

But the Light hides inside the “I don’t know.”

I cannot clean the mind with my hands of clay,

So I give it to You, take the fog away.

Not for myself do I ask to be bright,

But to build us a vessel that shines with Your Light.

The Ten is my compass, the stars in my sky,

Without them I stumble, I fail, and I cry.

So I cling to their hearts, though my reason may fall,

Above all the noise—I hear Your call.

So let this confusion become my prayer,

A cry from the depths that rises in air.

Correct this vessel, broken and small,

Unite us together—and dwell in us all.

The Society’s Song

I thought I could climb to the heavens alone,

But my ego just laughed with a heart made of stone.

Each step that I took, I fell twice as deep,

Till the friends came around and pulled me from sleep.

The world says, “Take more!”—it shouts with a grin,

But the heart knows the truth: that’s the root of our sin.

So I sit with my brothers, their fire my light,

In the heat of their love, my soul takes its flight.

When one heart grows weary and falls to the ground,

The others rush quickly, they circle around.

For sparks join as one till a bonfire’s born,

And together we rise through the night and the morn.

It hurts to let go of the “I” that I love,

It feels like I’m torn by the heavens above.

Yet laughter breaks out through the sorrow and pain,

For losing myself is the truest of gain.

The Creator hides not in the sky or the sea,

But in bonds between hearts, in the love of the we.

So I’ll cling to my friends, for it’s here I can see,

That the place of the Lord is our sweet unity.

the world is filled with such self love

even though we know its all from above

the war we are fighting deep with in

to ignore it in truth is a sin

so unite together ones heart and soul

all to pay tribute to the one that is whole

so rise above the fleeting flame

forget the honor, forget the name

hold the friends as your living prayer

for the Creator is hidden there

with laughter, sorrow, joy, and pain

we weave one song, one sweet refrain

to give, not take, is our only role

united as one, we form one soul

The Battle Within

Inside my chest a war is waged,

Israel’s spark feels small and caged.

The nations roar, they want it all,

While Israel whispers, fragile, small.

The ego laughs, “You’ll never win,

I’ve got desire, thick as sin!”

But Israel clings with trembling might,

To faith above, beyond the sight.

The Torah’s light, a hidden sword,

It lifts the spark toward its Lord.

Not to destroy, but to transform,

The nations bend, their will reform.

At times I fall, they take the crown,

The klipot dance and drag me down.

But from the ten, a hand extends,

“Get up, you fool! Connect to friends!”

In love and pain I rise once more,

Through laughter, tears, the heart is sore.

The spark of Israel, though so slight,

Can summon heaven’s endless light.

So let the nations mock and jeer,

The path is narrow, sharp, severe—

Yet through the suffering, joy is sown,

For Israel’s seed is not my own.

It is the Creator, dwelling deep,

Awakening hearts that long to weep.

And in that cry, the nations fall—

The spark of Israel rules them all.

"The Bridge of Baal HaSulam"

I walked with pockets full of dreams,

And shoes with holes that leaked in streams.

The path was steep, the sky was torn,

I cursed the day that I was born.

Then came a man with eyes of flame,

Who called my sorrow out by name.

He said, “Child, your grief’s not random fate,

It’s bait to pull you to Heaven’s gate.”

He laughed at my pride, and slapped my despair,

Said, “The Creator put both in your hair.

One’s to lift, the other to bend,

Both are tools to reach the end.”

“The world,” he said, “is a crooked hall,

With mirrors that trick and shadows that call.

But if you link arms, all hearts as one,

You’ll find the doorway back to the Sun.”

And so we walk, in mud and in light,

Some days we stumble, some nights we fight.

But oh, when a friend takes your burden to bear—

You feel the Creator already there.

So thank you, Rav, for the map and the song,

For showing the weak where the strong belong.

In the end we will laugh at the pain we have known,

For all of it carved us into His own.

🎭 Poem: "Elul Blues (The Ballad of the Brokenhearted Beloved)"

Style: Bitter-sweet blues with a wink of holy foolishness

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I woke up in Elul with a heart full of holes,

My coffee was bitter, my soul felt old.

“I am my Beloved’s,” I tried to recite—

But my Wi-Fi was down and the Light was in flight.

I put on my tefillin and sang a sad song,

"Where are You, Beloved? What took You so long?"

But the heavens were silent, just like my phone,

And the will to receive said, “You’re on your own.”

I danced with my sorrow, my pain wore a grin,

My ego laughed, “He won’t let you in!”

Still, I knocked and I cried, with a love that won’t quit—

And the answer came back: “You ain’t earned it yet.”

So I fasted from reason, feasted on faith,

Marinated my heart in a doubt-laced wraith.

Each mitzvah I did with a tear and a joke,

Like grilling a steak with no meat or smoke.

“I’ll love You,” I whispered, “though I’m broke and bruised,

Though my vessels are shattered, and my soul's confused.

I give You this mess, all cracked and flawed,

Because You, my Beloved, are still my God.”

Then a whisper returned through the silence and ache,

Like a breeze through the ruins that never quite break.

“My beloved,” it hummed, “you remembered the call—

And I was beside you through pain and through fall.”

So I’m back in the work with a limp and a grin,

Elul’s my rehab for shedding old skin.

The sorrow still bites, the humor still stings—

But love is a ladder that pain sometimes brings.

The Soul’s Stumbling Waltz

Oh, soul, you clumsy spark of light,

Dropped from the heavens, a comical sight!

You tripped on a star, fell into this clay,

Now stuck in a body, you grumble all day.

“Why this mess?” you moan with a frown,

This world’s a circus, and I’m the clown!

(Humor’s the balm when the ego’s a pain,

You laugh through the mud, or you’ll go insane.)

Love calls you softly, a whisper, a flame,

“Connect with the others, forget your own name!”

Baal HaSulam nods from his perch in the sky,

“Give up your ‘me,’ and your soul will fly high.”

You try, oh you try, with a heart full of care,

But your neighbor’s loud snoring? Too much to bear!

Yet love’s the glue, the spark, the divine,

It stitches the world with a thread so fine.

Sorrow creeps in, like a thief in the night,

The soul feels the fracture, the absence of light.

You chase fleeting pleasures, but they slip away,

Like sand through your fingers, they just won’t stay.

“Why this longing?” you cry, with a tear-streaked face,

This world feels too heavy, too cruel a place.

Baal HaSulam whispers, “That pain’s your guide,

It points to the truth you’ve buried inside.”

Pain, oh the pain, it’s the ego’s sharp sting,

Each selfish desire pulls a tight, bitter string.

But here’s the secret, the Kabbalist’s art:

The hurt’s just a map to your wandering heart.

Trade “I” for “we,” let your soul take the leap,

Find joy in the giving, though the climb may be steep.

With a wink and a sigh, you’ll laugh at the strain,

For love heals the sorrow, and light soothes the pain.

So dance, little soul, through this wild, messy show,

With humor to lighten, and love’s gentle glow.

Sorrow and pain are your teachers, your friends,

They carve out the path where the ego’s reign ends.

Baal HaSulam smiles, his ladder in view,

“Climb, spark of Light—your Creator waits for you!”