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.