🔥“The Eight That Burn Between Us”🔥
(A poem for the Ten — Keter to Malchut)
We sit in one circle, pretending to pray,
Each heart a battlefield in subtle decay.
Keter above us, too bright to name,
Malchut below, drowning in shame.
Between them eight blades cut through the soul,
Each Sefira demanding its toll.
Hochma blinds — a flash of might,
Revealing how little we know of Light.
Bina awakens and screams, “Don’t take!”
She mothers the storm, she makes us break.
In her womb we bleed our pride,
Till tears replace the walls we hide.
Then Hesed comes — that merciful sun,
He whispers, “Give,” till we all come undone.
But Gevurah strikes — “Don’t fake your grace!”
She tears the mask right off your face.
Tiferet hums, a trembling chord,
Between my brother’s heart and the Lord.
Harmony? No. It’s war in disguise,
Love born from pain, where ego dies.
Netzach pushes — fight, advance!
We fall, we rise, in a holy dance.
Hod bows low — admit defeat,
For only surrender makes the Light complete.
Yesod collects the shrapnel and pain,
Fusing our fragments into one vein.
He channels the mercy, refines the fire,
Till Malchut drinks what Keter desired.
So here we are — Ten souls ablaze,
Lost in the mirror of each other’s gaze.
The eight between us slice and mend,
Each wound a beginning, not an end.
We die to self to be reborn,
In unity’s storm, the veil is torn.
For when these Sefirot burn clean and true,
Keter descends — through me, through you.