The line descends, a whisper, thin,

A pipeline drawn, where worlds begin.

It bends, it arcs, it rounds the night,

Each circle born from endless Light.

Keter first, so near, so high,

The crown that kisses Ein Sof’s sky.

Hochma follows, wisdom’s flame,

Then Bina forms, her womb, her name.

One by one the rings are spun,

Until the tenth, where work is done.

Malchut waits, the vessel’s call,

Embracing circles, one through all.

Ten within ten, the dance complete,

Each step a heartbeat, calm, discreet.

The order sings, the Light does flow,

From endless heights to depths below.

 Poem for the Ten

I was born weak, my vessel so small,

No wisdom, no craving, no strength at all.

Alone I would fall, my Torah be dust,

But in you, my friends, I place all my trust.

Through your fire I’m lifted, your yearning my guide,

Your love is the shelter where I can abide.

Not wicked or righteous by nature’s decree—

But righteous through you, for you carry me.

 Born a fool, with no flame in the night,

No hunger for wisdom, no yearning for Light—

The drop is decreed, “weakling, fool,” so it seems,

Condemned to the dust, to a life without dreams.

Yet the Creator, in mercy, He scattered the seeds,

Planted the righteous to answer our needs.

For alone we are ashes, corpses that rot,

But beside the great ones, new powers are caught.

The fool has no vessel, no craving, no fight,

But he cleaves to the righteous—receives their delight.

What I lack from my birth, I inherit through them,

As a beggar made king in Jerusalem.

Without them, my Torah is poison, a knife,

But with them it blossoms and gives me true life.

So wicked or righteous is not in the bone,

It’s chosen in love, it’s chosen in home.

So I fall on my face, in weakness I cry,

“Friends, lift me upward, don’t let me die!”

And the Creator replies with a whisper above:

“You are righteous through them… through faith, through love.”