The Potion of Death In My Coffee Cup
🔥 “THE POTION OF DEATH IN MY COFFEE CUP” — a poem on Baal HaSulam’s warning 🔥 I wake each morning thinking I’m fine, But poison drips from this heart of mine. I open a sefer, pretend I’m clean— Yet every thought screams, “What’s in it for me?” unseen. Baal HaSulam shouts through the page with fire, “Your exile drags on because of your own desire!” Not Rome, not Babylon, not some king’s decree— It’s my damn craving for honor that chains all of me. I study, I pray, I smile at the friends, But inside I’m calculating dividends. The Torah in my hands is supposed to give life— Yet mis-aimed, it cuts me open like a knife. He says there’s an oath written in heaven’s air, That mercy won’t rise till my heart learns to care. Not for reward, not for comfort or gain, But just to give Him pleasure—through joy or pain. I sip my morning coffee like it’s holy ground, But it burns like death when ego is crowned. For the Torah becomes poison, the sages all say, When I twist it to shine on me in s...