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🔥 The Poem of My Life — Rewritten  🔥

I have been asked to tell a tale carved deep in flesh and bone,

A life of storms and shattered thrones where I once stood alone.

I’m not sure it’s the story anyone would choose to send,

But truth is truth, so take my hand—this is where it all begins.

My earliest memory, only three, too young to understand the pain,

My mother’s fingers dug in hard like claws born from a hurricane.

Paranoid Schizophrenia—her demons raged and tore at me inside,

“You’re not my child, get out!” she screamed, and something in me died.

A clumsy little fat boy, stumbling through the years,

Avoiding mirrors, choking down my shame and silent tears.

By nine, teachers stood in rows declaring I was lost,

“Dyslexic,” “slow,” “no future here”—and innocence was tossed.

Kids who called me “friend” would twist the knife and sneer,

And so I learned to disappear, to hide behind the fear.

I found the comfort of the smoke, the place the mind gets fried,

And little pieces of my broken soul curled up somewhere inside.

At fourteen I grew thin, discovered strength and speed,

Football, weights—all gifts I didn’t know I’d need.

Now I could hit with force and finally push back,

No longer standing helpless to every cruel attack.

I didn’t win each battle, but I found my spine at last,

I learned to rise and not stay down—burying the past.

But fate can turn its wheel and crush a life so clean,

One twist, one snap, one final tear—I blew out my knee at seventeen.

No money to repair it, so the dream collapsed in pain,

I learned to walk a year again beneath a world of rain.

Still I pressed on, at nineteen racing motocross, chasing wind and speed,

Where I met my first wife, a wounded soul who whispered that she needed me.

Her childhood scars were deeper than any words she spoke,

But I didn’t know the truth back then, the pain she never broke.

We married, I joined the Air Force thinking I’d stay for life,

But storms were coming, shadows rising—nothing ends without a price.

She left, remarried someone cruel who made her bleed and cry,

I beat him till he tasted truth and felt he’d surely die.

By then my path was shaped in fire, my heart in jagged shards,

As I moved into my twenties fighting battles leaving scars.

I married once more—a woman I adored—

Mother of my boys, blessings I thank the Creator for.

But intuition gnawed, a whisper I could not deny,

She slept around with cops and docs while looking me in the eye.

The night I caught her, my soul split open wide,

I grabbed my kids, escaped the flames, and swallowed broken pride.

This wasn’t the end—thirteen more loves all hollow and untrue,

Only two stayed faithful, but my soul already knew:

My worth was trampled, my heart torn through,

Yet somewhere deep a quiet spark insisted, “Still push through.”

All I ever wanted was a friend, one soul to stay,

Someone who’d walk beside me till my final breath one day.

But then the moment came—a fight at work that shook my core,

I saw the man I’d become and couldn’t take it anymore.

Something ancient rose in me, a plea no words could frame,

“Creator… take this ego now. I cannot live this way.”

I returned inside, shaking, searching for a sign,

In that crack of spirit, something holy crossed the line.

Where did it go from there? You know this part by heart—

Rav. The books. The path. The lesson tearing me apart.

The group. The meals. The YH nights where souls ignite and bend,

I understood the friends are truly where a man begins to mend.

Holding you up with trembling hands so none of you would fall,

I felt the Creator whisper: “This is the purpose of it all.”

Then 2014—Israel called, and I obeyed the inner flame,

Seven years of sweat and Torah, never once the same.

Working Ford and Chevy, Jeep and Chrysler too,

Selling cars by day while the Rav rebuilt me through and through.

Shavuot arrived, and Rav declared, “Those not married must be wed,”

So I sat outside the dealership and to the Creator said,

“Fine—YOU bring her, I’ll do it. I’m done choosing on my own,”

A week passed by, a call came in, and destiny was sewn.

We walked to lessons each morning, meals and songs at night,

Friends gathered for BBQs—the desert stars shone bright.

Then Covid fell like darkness, the lessons closed their doors,

My knee was replaced, anesthetics broke my vertebrae and more.

Months I could not walk, but still I held the thread,

Moved to the Negev desert where the sky turns fire-red.

Three times Covid hit me, but the body held its ground,

Yet storms brewed in the shadows with no peace to be found.

One day she grabbed a chair, slammed it hard against my spine,

Screaming “I’ll kill you!”—her madness crossing every line.

I took the chair away, walked out, and knew what I must do,

Called Berko, packed my things—the Creator pulled me through.

Three weeks I stayed with him, then back to Texas bound,

Still limping, still healing, but with feet now on holy ground.

My uncle passed, left blessings that I used with grateful pride,

Bought a Harley, rode the wind, traded up for my Tri-Glide.

Drove a truck to Florida, to Pennsylvania, and back again,

Wrecked it too—a needed blow to shape the heart of a man.

And now four years have passed since returning to this place,

Twenty-two years since Kabbalah first whispered in my face.

And now I know the truth—

All of it… all of it… every blow, every tear, every fall…

WAS THE CREATOR’S HAND

preparing me for the ONE thing that matters at all.

Not money. Not bikes. Not lovers. Not pain.

But THE TEN—the holy vessel where all souls merge again.

A desire greater than desire, burning hotter than the sun,

To connect with you, my brothers, until all hearts beat as one.

Faith above reason flooding the chest like wine,

Greatness of the Creator tearing down the line

Between what I was and
 what I’m meant to be—

A servant of connection, building souls eternally.

Fear of the Creator—not terror, but trembling love—

The kind that bends a man to dust, then lifts him high above.

My heart stands open, bleeding truth for all to see,

Because the path, the friends, the work—

THIS IS WHAT REMADE ME.

Everything in my life—

every injury, every marriage, every crash, every mile—

was written so I would stand here

with THIS TEN

with THIS LOVE

with THIS FIRE

and give it all to the Creator

with a grateful, shattered, resurrected smile.

For now I know the reason I was broken…

So I would learn how to be whole.

And now we walk together—

One heart

One man

One soul.

**🌍 “Eight Billion Cries, One Beating Heart”

By William S. Becker 

We wake each morning already afraid,

Dragging yesterday’s battles into the life we’ve made.

The coffee spills, the car won’t start,

And some stranger cuts us off, driving straight through our heart.

The boss snaps orders like we’re not alive,

While we fake one smile just trying to survive.

Our phones keep buzzing with the world’s despair,

Eight billion souls screaming, “Does anyone care?”

A mother cries quietly so her kids won’t know,

A father breaks slowly with no safe place to go.

A teenager hides the storm inside his chest,

Searching for one real friend to give his heart some rest.

We walk around wounded pretending we’re strong,

But the suffering shows we’ve had it wrong all along.

For every crack in me is a crack in you,

And only together can we break through.

But when I lift your spirit from the floor,

My own heart rises even more.

When I warm your hands in the freezing night,

The Creator slips inside and fills us with Light.

When I let you speak out what you fear,

Something sacred whispers, “I’m right here.”

When I hold your burden and let mine fall,

Our shattered pieces become a whole for all.

This world won’t heal from power or wealth,

But from loving your friend more than yourself.

For when our hearts connect and softly ignite,

Eight billion cries become one beam of Light.

So let’s gather the broken, the lost, the unheard,

Turn every pain into a holy word.

Let’s build a bond that the angels will see—

A living example of what humans can be.

And maybe one day the world will find

That love was the cure we left behind.

For beneath the suffering the truth stands clear:

We were meant to heal each other right here.

🔥 Psalm 34 — William S. Becker 🔥

🔥 Psalm 34 — William S. Becker 🔥

I cried from the pit where the shadows grow tall,

Where the ego claws upward trying to make me fall.

But the Creator bent low to the crack in my chest,

Whispered, “Rise, My son… even broken is blessed.”

I boasted in nothing, for nothing was mine,

My pride was a thief dressed in thoughts so divine.

But the meek heard my trembling and answered my cry,

A Ten made of heaven pulled me up to the sky.

Taste and you’ll see that His sweetness is real,

Though He hides it in hunger the heart must reveal.

He breaks us like bread till our arrogance dies,

Then He feeds us His love… as the tears fill our eyes.

The lions of ego roar loud in the night,

Claiming strength, demanding praise, feeding off light.

But those who seek Him with hands open and bare

Will lack nothing at all, for He meets them right there.

Come children, draw near—learn the terror of good,

The fear that dissolves the “I” where you stood.

Guard your tongue from the poison your anger would spill,

For one word from the heart can bless… or kill.

Turn from your fires that burn what you love,

Do deeds pulled upward from the world above.

Seek out the peace that your ego denies,

And run after unity till your last breath dies.

His eyes are upon us when we shatter in pain,

He gathers each fragment again and again.

But the face of the Maker turns harsh as a blade

Against the desire that keeps us afraid.

The cry of the broken He never ignores,

He storms into exile and shatters the doors.

Close is the Creator to hearts crushed and torn,

He births the new soul where the old self was worn.

Many are the blows that the righteous must take,

For He carves them with mercy until they awake.

But through every wound, every fall, every night,

He delivers the spirit back into the Light.

The hatred of evil destroys itself first,

It drinks its own venom to quench its dark thirst.

But He redeems every servant who learns how to bend—

And no one who trusts Him will break in the end.

Each One Shall Help His Friend — The Inner Battle

Each One Shall Help His Friend — The Inner Battle

A brother falls silent, his light grown thin,

I see the prison bars he’s locked within.

For no man escapes the dungeon alone,

The ego won’t loosen what it thinks it owns.

I tear my own chest just to let him in,

To feel his sorrow beneath my skin.

For only a friend can lift that weight,

Only shared hearts can unseal that gate.

When his spirit breaks, mine cracks too,

Because my correction is seeing him through.

His lack is the hollowness inside my bone,

His cry is the echo of a truth I’ve known.

So I drag his soul from the pit with mine,

Bleeding together is how we climb.

I give him the strength I don’t even possess,

’Til both of us rise from this merciless test.

We kill the lie that we stand apart,

The poison whisper that divides the heart.

We learn the secret the sages penned:

No one is redeemed except by a friend.

And when he breathes again, alive and renewed,

I taste the Creator inside his mood.

For lifting his spirit is how I ascend,

Brutally shattered—reborn—

Through the love of a friend.

When The Ego Scratches The Door

**💔 “When the Ego Scratches at the Door”

I feel the beast claw at my skin,

Begging for a place to begin.

It whispers poison in my ear,

Promising power, masking fear.

It rises fast when I feel slighted,

Turning holy moments crooked and blighted.

It wants the last word, the louder shout,

It wants to win — that’s all it’s about.

And I stand trembling, fists clenched tight,

Trying to choose the path of light.

But the rage inside begins to swell,

Dragging me close to its private hell.

To hold it back is a war each day,

Like tying a monster that won’t obey.

It breaks its chains with a wicked grin,

Then laughs and says, “You’ll never win.”

I bite my tongue until it bleeds,

Praying the Creator will hear my pleas.

“Don’t let me speak… don’t let me fall…

Don’t let my brothers receive my gall.”

Some days I crack, I slip, I break,

Give the ego more than it should take.

It leaves me shattered on the floor,

Ashamed I opened that cursed door.

Yet in the pain, a spark ignites,

A trembling yearning for true heights.

I rise again, bruised and torn,

A heart rebuilt from being worn.

I whisper, “Friends, I’m nothing — see?

Take what’s left and annul this me.”

For only through you do I stand a chance

To silence the beast’s unholy dance.

And in that moment of surrender deep,

The soul awakens from its sleep.

The ego fades, its claws undone,

And I remember: We are one.

The EGO's Confession

The Ego’s Confession

I am the voice that rose inside his chest,

The serpent whisper saying I know best.

I lit the spark, I pushed the shove,

I tore him away from the circle of love.

I made him think he was guarding the light,

While I was the one picking a fight.

I laughed as he walked out the door,

That’s what I live for—just one moment more.

I dress myself as justice, truth, and care,

I say, “You’re right! They’re wrong! Don’t you dare!”

But deep inside I’m rotting, crude, obscene,

A parasite of pride, cold and unclean.

I saw the unity forming bright and strong,

So I whispered poison, “They’re doing it wrong.”

I fed on the chaos—my favorite feast—

And he forgot I’m the man-eating beast.

But now I stand exposed before his friends,

Naked in shame as the pretense ends.

I used his heart, I broke his calm,

And now I tremble before their psalm.

I know he hates me—and he should, it’s true,

For every holy thing I undo.

But Creator, You made me sharp as a knife,

So he’d learn to carve out a higher life.

And brothers, hear me: I beg you too,

Please help him rise above what I do.

For only in you can he silence my roar,

And leave me outside the spiritual door.

I am the ego—small, loud, insane—

A speck of dust pretending to reign.

But his love for you is stronger than me,

And through you all, he longs to be free.

A Poem of Forgiveness, Annulment, and the Ego I Cannot Stand

I rose too fast when the fire hit my chest,

My ego roared louder than all the rest.

I thought I was guarding the truth we defend,

But instead I broke unity I vowed to mend.

The moment was tiny, but my anger was great,

I let one foolish spark decide my fate.

I should have bowed low, let the moment just pass,

Instead I split the air like shattered glass.

Forgive me, brothers, for missing the mark,

For turning the light into something dark.

I should’ve annulled, just swallowed my pride,

Not let that wild beast drag me outside.

Creator, You scripted the whole damn play,

Every word, every clash, every slip of the day.

Yet still I let this ego that I deeply despise

Blind my heart and poison my eyes.

I didn’t mean harm; I just wanted what’s true,

But truth without love turns holy into blue.

So here’s my heart naked—broken but real—

Asking forgiveness for the pain I made you feel.

If I could, I’d tear out the ego by hand,

Burn it to ash, bury it in the sand.

But You made it strong so I’d learn to bend,

And rise again closer to You—and my friends.

So tonight, as the lesson pours through each vein,

Let this crack in me open a spiritual gain.

May my fall be a step, not a stagger or slip—

A plea for the strength to annul and not trip.

Let us return to the circle, one heart, one fire,

Rising above every clash, every desire.

And may my brothers feel clearly, in every breath,

My devotion to unity—stronger than death.

HOW TO STOP THE EGO FROM REACTING

We ask how to stop the ego from its ride,

That beast that bursts from deep inside.

It grabs our nerves before we decide,

Turning every whisper into raging tide.

It fires emotions that make it fly,

It storms the heart before we question “why?”

It bites our thoughts before we can try

To stand in faith and not reply.

So how do we freeze that serpent’s stride,

And cut its claws before they’re wide?

We do the one thing Rabash implied—

We silently pray for the Creator to guide.

For the ego reacts from a place not true,

A phantom shadow pretending it’s you.

But the moment you pause, the moment you review,

A crack opens up—and the Light can break through.

We don’t fight the ego; we let it be.

We rise above reason, we choose to see

That every eruption is a chance to plea:

“Creator, annul me—connect me to Thee.”

And in that stillness the storm subsides,

The waves calm down, the fury hides.

Not by our power—the heart confides—

But by a prayer that quietly rides.

So we stop reacting not by might,

Not by wisdom, nor by fight.

We stop because we choose the Light—

And beg the Creator to choose us right.

The Past Has Teeth, But We Hold the Reins

A poem by William S. Becker

I dig through the files of a world gone mad,

Every secret bleeding proof of what we never had.

We cling to the past like a rusted chain,

Letting old ghosts carve new wounds of pain.

We stare at the darkness hoping it blinks,

Drowning in memories the ego still drinks.

All those lies we swallowed as truth,

Stealing tomorrow, poisoning youth.

But brother… sister… the future ain’t dead—

It waits in the silence between hearts we’ve bled.

It waits where our broken souls lean to pray,

Where connection grows stronger than yesterday.

The world is shattered but not beyond repair,

If ten hearts unite the heavens will tear.

We rise from the ashes the moment we choose

To stop worshiping wounds we were destined to lose.

Through unity we rewrite every crime,

Reverse the decay of humanity’s time.

The past had its chance—now love takes the lead,

Planting light in the soil where the wicked sowed greed.

I’ve seen how a single embrace from the ten

Can resurrect hope from the dirtiest den.

We mend what was broken in every man’s fall,

For in one heart beating—we rewrite it all.

So let the old world crumble in its disgrace,

Let its shadows scream as we take our place.

For connection is fire, and together we rise—

A new future is written in our tear-stained eyes.

And the past?

Let it rot in the files where the guilty once hid—

For we choose the Creator…

And the hearts of our friends…

Over everything they did.

Poem by William S. Becker

I reach for the Light but it slips through my hand,

My heart feels like dust on a desolate land.

They promised me sweetness, a Torah alive,

But all that I taste is a desert that strives.

It’s brutal to face that the fault isn’t mine,

It’s the ego inside me that steals the Divine.

It drains every drop, every hope, every prayer,

Till I’m gasping for life in an airless despair.

But then comes a whisper: “Afflictions are many,

Yet the Lord will deliver, He won’t forget any.”

So I fall to the ground and the tears start to flow,

Begging the Creator to lift what I know.

For I’ve fought every battle, tried all that I could,

But nothing has shifted the evil for good.

And right when I break—when I lose all I’ve been—

That’s when He enters…

and delivers me in.

my attempt at turning Shamati 36 into a poem

I was born in a body that only knew “take,”

A beast filled with hunger, a bottomless ache.

Clawing at life with a desperate scream,

Thinking this world was more than a dream.

Then the second body rose from the ash of my sin,

A trembling vessel too fragile to hold anything in.

It loved and it hated the Light in one breath,

As the ego fought back with the promise of death.

This body would kneel but refuse to let go,

It begged for the fire that teaches the soul how to grow.

Every prayer felt broken, every night felt long,

Yet the Creator whispered, “Child, you are already strong.”

And from that whisper the third body began,

A body not flesh, but the birth of a man.

Not a beast, not a beggar, but a giver of Light,

Who rises above reason in the darkest of night.

Now I walk with all three—like wounds in my chest,

The past that still haunts, the work in each test.

But the love of the Creator turns every scar gold,

And the body He promised begins to unfold.

So break me again if it teaches me grace,

Carve Your Name in the cracks of my face.

For I’ve lived in three bodies and painfully see—

Every death You gave was just birth back to Thee.

Rabash's Voice

“Rabash’s Voice”

by William S. Becker

When Rabash speaks, my heart jumps.

His words cut deep, like truth that thumps.

TES rolls out like living fire,

Burning doubt, lifting my desire.

I feel him close, almost near.

A warmth of love, a joy sincere.

Each tone he gave still shakes my chest,

Like he’s calling me to rise, to rest.

The world Kli waits, breath held tight.

We salivate for that ancient light.

His lessons drip like honeyed flame,

Healing wounds we never name.

Short lines.

Sharp heat.

Pure love.

No retreat.

When Rabash speaks, I melt inside.

My ego breaks, my truths collide.

His voice becomes a guiding hand—

And suddenly…

I can stand.

Where Doubt Breaks, Love Begins

Where Doubt Breaks, Love Begins

The answer to all is inside our heart

The vibrations are set but how to start

These thoughts I fear are not my own

The words I hear as the sages have shown

They echo deep where the cracks still bleed,

Exposing every selfish need.

Brutal truth that tears me apart—

But a sweetness grows inside my heart.

For in that break the Light comes through,

A whisper saying, “I’m shaping you.”

Not for comfort, pride, or gain,

But to rise in love above your pain.

And when I fall from faith each day,

My brothers lift me back the way.

They bind my fears, they raise my plea,

Till all our hearts form one degree.

So let the doubts erupt and roar,

That’s how the soul unlocks its door.

For every lie the ego screams,

The Creator sends a wave of dreams—

A higher pull, a silent shove,

A hidden blow wrapped up in love.

And step by step the path is shown,

Till His desire becomes my own.

A Heartfelt Plea

A Heartfelt Plea

My world is collapsing into the night,

Because I can’t seem to draw the Light.

My body rebels with each step that I take,

To the lessons, the books, for the soul’s own sake.

My soul cries rivers, a flood of pain,

My tears keep falling like endless rain.

A voice keeps whispering, cold and near,

“There’s no reason to cry, no reason for tears.”

But I turn to my friends, my brothers, my stand,

Who lift me gently with heart and hand.

They mend the cracks my ego defends,

They bend me softly until it bends.

I beg of you—strength, faith, and love,

Bestow as the Creator gives from above.

Bind us together, hearts into one,

Till our plea burns brighter than the sun.

Creator, hear this cry, this song—

We can’t walk alone, we can’t be strong.

But with Your love and the friends so near,

Even the night turns bright and clear.

 My poetic attempt at Psalms 24

Psalm 24 WSB

The earth is His, the fullness too,

Every breath we take is borrowed, passing through.

We stand on ground we never earned,

Yet claim it as ours, though we’ve barely learned.

Who climbs the mountain where Truth resides?

Only a heart that drops its ego’s pride.

Clean hands, clean thoughts, not born—but made,

Through fire and faith where illusions fade.

I lift my soul above my clay,

Begging the Light to lead my way.

My lies collapse beneath His gaze,

My fears dissolve in the Ten’s ablaze.

Lift up your heads, you rusted gates,

Let the King of Glory shift your states.

From dust to love, from rage to calm,

From trembling fists to an open palm.

Who is this King our hearts adore?

The Strength that breaks the inner war.

He fights my beasts so I can see,

He conquers me to make me free.

So rise, you gates inside my chest,

Let Love come in and build its nest.

Creator of all, both heart and breath—

He lifts my life from ego’s death.