The Womb of Lack

“The Womb of Lack”

I build my house on hollow ground,

each prayer a whisper, a broken sound.

I lift my eyes, but see no King,

still chant His Name as if it’s spring.

I talk of love with lips of stone,

the words are His, but not my own.

I beg for faith, yet cheat the night,

pretend I’ve seen the hidden light.

He hides to show how blind I stay,

He wounds to teach me how to pray.

He breaks my heart till cracks appear,

then pours His mercy through my fear.

So curse this void that burns my chest,

this hunger proves I’m not at rest.

If I could die before His throne,

I’d find the life that feels like home.

O Lord, reveal what I don’t feel—

my barren heart, my rusted zeal.

For only one who knows he’s weak,

is strong enough the King to seek.

And till I stand where angels kneel,

I’ll love the wound that will not heal.

For in that pain, Your Name is sewn—

my lack, my grave, my stepping stone.

Even The Unworthy Are Heard

📜 "Even the Unworthy Are Heard"

(Inspired by Shamati 113 – “The Eighteen Prayer”)

They say He hears each mouth that prays,

Yet mercy seals what He conveys.

Then what of cries that lack the grace—

Do they just vanish into space?

A twisted path, this narrow gate,

Where love and judgment intertwine with fate.

One moment lifted, next laid low—

The opposites are all we know.

To be so humble we disappear,

Yet roar with truth when friends draw near.

To bow before the least of men,

Yet hold the world and start again.

Our words may fail, intentions rot,

But still He hears—no soul forgot.

The filth, the pride, the broken pleas,

He drinks them all like storm-tossed seas.

This is the weight, the work, the song—

To know we're weak, yet still belong.

To cry with lips that once deceived—

And be embraced, though not believed.

So if you find your prayer denied,

Or mercy masked, or hope has died—

Know this, dear heart: He bends His ear

Most close to those who drown in fear.

Heart of the Ten

 In the heart of the Ten, where the frequencies blend,

We’re transmitters, receivers, on a path with no end.

In the dance of desires, from the surface we rise,

Trading ego’s illusions for love’s truer prize.

Oh my brothers, my sisters, in this sacred embrace,

We are tuning our hearts to a higher place.

Every thought that we shift from the self to the whole,

Is a step toward the One, the correction of soul.

For the glory of the Creator is the end of our quest,

In the love we uncover, in the trials we’re blessed.

We are builders of bridges from the will to receive,

To a realm of pure giving, where only love we believe.

So here is our mission, our journey so vast,

To transform every moment as we hold each other fast.

In the heart of the Ten, in the love that we lend,

We find the Creator, our beginning and end.