When the Work Begins

 When The Work Begins

A person turns the heart to unity

Not for reward, but for annulled purity

Before the aim can settle in place

The mind erupts, demanding its case

Thoughts strike hard, precise, and loud

Disguised as logic, sharp and proud

Doubt wears reason, fear wears truth

Urgency screams, stripping the proof

The heart pulls forward, simple and bare

The mind pulls sideways, filled with care

Each claims to guard the proper way

Each swears the other leads astray

This split is not a flaw or sin

It is where the work must now begin

For the will to receive shows its face

Only when bestowal takes its place

A person learns not to argue inside

Not to choose which voice should decide

The work is not to silence the fight

But to lift both hands toward the Light

Then comes a request without demand

No proof in mind, no strength in hand

Align the heart, align the thought

Not for self, for what we sought

Let the mind serve what the heart sees

Let the heart rise above what is

Not to escape, not to pretend

But to bind both ends to a single end

When heart and mind agree to ask

The split itself completes the task

For unity is born this way

Through resistance that learns to pray

From the Article These Candles Are Sacred

THESE CANDLES ARE SACRED

I light the flame

but I don’t touch

Hands tied back

heart clenched shut

These candles burn

not for my gain

I only look

I swallow pain

I want reward

I want to feel

But Hanukkah says

Stand still. Kneel.

These lights are holy

Not mine to use

No payment given

No borrowed juice

I don’t eat Light

I don’t get paid

I stare at Truth

until I fade

---

The Greeks in me

start clearing their throat

“Does this make sense?”

they take a vote

They want logic

proof and taste

They smash my walls

call faith a waste

They break my towers

brick by brick

Say “bow to reason”

call faith a trick

But towers rise

where reason dies

Above the mind

the heart replies

---

Faith above reason

is a wall, not a dream

It guards the tower

where greatness is seen

I shrink my mind

lower my head

That’s where the Light

gets clothed instead

The higher He gets

the lower I fall

I see my dirt

I see it all

The closer He comes

the worse I feel

I see my ego

raw and real

---

I wanted Purim

wine and cheer

Bodies saved

feast and beer

But Hanukkah whispers

“Not yet, son

Half the war

has just begun”

I parked the fight

Hanu-Koh

Not ‘cause it’s done

but strength can grow

This rest ain’t peace

It’s ammo stored

So I can face

the deeper war

---

My will to take

burns bitter black

Gevurot scream

“Don’t give it back”

Receiving hurts

when self is king

Distance tastes

like suffering

But when I take

to give Him joy

The bitterness

turns sweet, my boy

The same desire

same damn fire

Now aimed to love

not to acquire

---

I see my lowliness

like trash and ash

Why help me, Lord?

I’m cracked, I crash

If others knew

what I’ve been shown

They’d run this path

and leave me prone

Yet here You are

hand stretched wide

Welcoming

the criminal inside

---

The mountain grows

with every climb

Thoughts stack high

doubting time

The righteous drown

in rising hills

While wicked float

on paper thrills

But I’ve been lifted

from the bin

Trash was my diet

ego my skin

Now every doubt

every fall

Builds the wall

that guards it all

---

I won’t demand

to understand

I won’t wait

for mind’s command

I won’t say “Now

it makes sense to serve”

That path is theft

a crooked curve

I’ll work above

what I can see

Because that’s where

You come to me

---

So light the flame

and don’t consume

Stand in awe

inside the gloom

These candles teach

a brutal truth

Greatness comes

when faith is youth

And only prayer

keeps me alive

Above reason

is how I survive

Concealment in the Heart

There’s a difference, yeah, but it ain’t what it seems,

Between those who study and those chasing dreams.

Not smarter, not purer, not closer to Heaven,

Just handed a role — a position was given.

All of us move when the Creator decides,

Every thought, every step, every fall, every rise.

No one’s outside, no one’s ignored,

Each soul is operated by the same unified force.

Some are awakened, pulled into the room,

Not for reward — but for burden and doom.

Chosen like Rosh, not to rule or command,

But to pass what flows through a trembling hand.

Dissemination ain’t numbers, applause, or proof,

It laughs in the face of logical truth.

If reason could measure what Light is meant to do,

Faith would be useless — and Rav says it’s not true.

We speak, we write, we share, we stand,

Not knowing who hears or who understands.

The ego screams, “Is this even right?”

Faith answers softly, “Walk into the night.”

No feedback, no praise, no visible gain,

Just quiet work through resistance and pain.

That’s not failure — that’s the sign

You stepped outside reason and into the line.

So don’t judge the world, don’t measure the crowd,

We weren’t chosen to be seen or loud.

We were chosen to serve when the heart feels blind,

Letting the Creator work through mankind.

And when doubt says, “This makes no sense,”

That’s the exact place of true confidence.

Faith is the lamp when the road feels dim —

Dissemination is trusting Him, not you, not them.

Same Dust, One Saddle

🔥 POEM — “Same Dust, One Saddle”

Boots hit dirt before sunrise breaks,

Coffee black, no time for mistakes.

Ropes get tight, the gate flies wide,

You don’t tame the bull — you learn to ride.

Faith ain’t clean, it’s calloused hands,

Oil-field prayers and desert land.

We fall, we bleed, we climb again,

Same fire burns in every man.

בוץ על המגפיים, לב חשוף,

לא מחפשים נוח — מחפשים אמת לעוף.

נופלים וקמים, זה החוק הישן,

לב אחד שורד — עם אחד, אדם.

Bucking broncos, busted pride,

Learn real fast who’s real inside.

You don’t win by standing tall,

You win when you answer the call.

If you’re scared — say it!

If you’re broken — stay in!

If you fall — get up!

If you hear the call — saddle up!

Toprak aynı, yol aynı,

Kalp atışı — hiç fark saymaz.

Texas, Türkiye — tek nefes,

Aynı dua, aynı ses.

Same dust storms, different skies,

Same damn tears in grown men’s eyes.

We don’t run when pressure hits,

Steel gets strong where it resists.

मिट्टी वही, रास्ता वही,

दिल की आग सबमें सही।

गिरते हैं हम, फिर उठते हैं,

एक ही पुकार — सब सुनते हैं।

No difference!

No borders!

Same dust!

One order!

Ride together — or don’t ride at all!

Middle Line of Nothing

 “Middle Line or Nothing”

I walked the right, clean hands, bowed head,

Gave thanks for crumbs, called hunger “fed.”

I served with fear, I praised His name,

But never touched His living flame.

I walked the left, my eyes burned bright,

Truth like fire in dead of night.

I saw His plan, I knew His aim,

But wisdom naked turned to shame.

Right says, “Give—don’t ask to feel.”

Left says, “Take—this truth is real.”

Both were loud, both felt so true,

Both alone just split me in two.

The heart cracked open, bled the lie,

“Pick a side or surely die.”

But Heaven whispered, low and thin,

“I dwell where both are braided in.”

Not mercy alone, not truth by force,

Not holy deeds without the Source.

The King is crowned where lines agree,

Where love clothes light responsibly.

No glory shown in empty hands,

No throne revealed in broken plans.

His honor shines when hearts align,

Hochma dressed in Hassadim.

So I don’t run, I don’t divide,

I stand where opposites collide.

I hold the dark, I hold the flame,

And bless His Name through joy and pain.

This is the work — no borrowed light,

No silent right, no reckless sight.

The Torah lives where both entwine,

Middle Line — or nothing shines.

---

HEBREW 

קו ימין בלי אור — חסד בלי חיים

קו שמאל בלי לב — חכמה בלי רחמים

רק באמצע מתגלה המלך

רק כששניהם כאחד — נשלם התיקון

לא די לתת, לא די לראות

בלי לב מלובש — האור נשרף

התורה מחברת ימין ושמאל

ושם כבוד הבורא נחשף

---

SPANISH 

Derecha sin verdad se vuelve fría,

Izquierda sin amor quema y vacía.

No hay gloria en partes rotas del querer,

Solo en el centro nace el Rey.

Sabiduría vestida de piedad,

Luz con cuidado, fuerza con bondad.

Ahí se revela Su voluntad,

En línea media — verdad total.

---

RUSSIAN 

Без милосердия мудрость — яд,

Без истины добро — лишь взгляд.

Он раскрыт не в крайних словах,

А там, где оба живут в сердцах.

Средняя линия — не компромисс,

А свет, что выдержал вес небес.

Там слава Творца становится явной,

Где свет и любовь соединены правильно.

---

CLOSING 

Brothers, we stand — not right, not left,

But where the heart is stripped of self.

No borrowed fire, no holy mask,

Just one desire — to crown Him fast.

Not me, not you — one single plea,

That He be seen through unity.

This is the path the sages knew,

Middle Line — made real in you.

Understanding None (One Man, One Heart). from the Zohar

Understanding None (One Man, One Heart)

We hear the words “understanding none,”

The mind goes dark, the heart gets stunned.

The Zohar laughs at what I know,

And strips me naked, soft and slow.

“Not by the mind, not by the brain,”

Truth only enters through the pain.

What reason builds, the Light must break,

For unity is not a thought to take.

Showing us how to become one,

Not by winning—by being undone.

One man, one heart, one soul made clear,

Only when self disappears.

I swear I’m far, I swear I’m late,

But distance is a lie I state.

“Near or far is all the same,”

When all events come from His Name.

The Zohar says, “Look not above,”

The ladder starts in friend-to-love.

The Creator hides between our cracks,

In every slight, in every lack.

I curse the friend, then beg for Light,

Hate erupts right in the fight.

And there He stands—silent, exact,

Writing mercy through my act.

“Who sees division sees concealment,”

Every judgment signs my sentence.

The world is shattered by my sight,

Unity waits behind the fight.

No prayer is clean, no heart is pure,

That’s why the method must endure.

He breaks me daily, hand in glove,

So I’ll choose faith—above my love.

I never knew how close, how near,

Till ego screamed and He was clear.

The Zohar burns, but not to harm—

It melts the self into the One.

So take my mind, I’ll keep the Ten,

Take my pride—just let me bend.

From “understanding none” I rise,

One heart revealed behind closed eyes.

The Rivers of Binah

Before the rivers ever dared to run,

Malchut stood naked, nowhere to run.

Every want screamed, “Fill me now,”

But nothing answered — not then, not how.

She reached for Light with filthy hands,

Took what she could, broke every command.

Called it wisdom, called it fate,

But every grab only deepened the hate.

Pleasure burned quick, then left a scar,

Another empty night, another bar.

Prayers turned hollow, lips learned lies,

Asking for heaven with wolfish eyes.

Then came the stop — the brutal freeze,

“No more receiving for self,” she decrees.

A blade to the heart, a wall to the soul,

Restriction hit hard — took total control.

No light, no warmth, no holy sound,

Just silence thick, crushing, profound.

The ego howled, kicked, cursed the night,

“Better to die than give up this fight.”

That’s when the crying finally broke,

Not for reward, not for a smoke.

A prayer rose raw, stripped of disguise,

“Teach me to give — or let me die.”

Only then did the rivers begin,

Not rushing in — but flowing within.

Binah leaned down, gentle but firm,

Showing Malchut a different term.

Not “take and live,” but “live to give,”

Not “prove you’re right,” but “let others live.”

Hassadim wrapped the shattered need,

Teaching the vessel how to receive.

Now rivers are flowing — measured, clean,

Binah is showing what mercy means.

Malchut receives just what she can send,

Light passes through her — not to her end.

And that’s the miracle, quiet and true:

Heaven descends when the self says “through.”

The river doesn’t drown the land,

It makes Malchut like Binah — hand in hand.

Living In a Dream

We work and live inside a dream,

Nothing here is what it seems.

Thoughts walk in and call me “me,”

Like I signed them silently.

Love shows up with blood on hands,

Hate pretends it understands.

Joy arrives then slips away,

Leaves a bill I still must pay.

I wake up tired, go to work,

Smile clean, but doubt still lurks.

Bills, regrets, old words replayed,

Every move already staged.

I fight my thoughts like they’re my own,

Defend a self I’ve never known.

Win a round, then lose the war,

Same damn thoughts knock at the door.

Then something cracks — not loud, not bright,

Just a whisper in the night:

“These thoughts aren’t yours — they pass through you,

Like weather does, like winds that move.”

The pain is real, the tears are true,

But even those are given too.

The dream don’t break when you see this part —

You wake inside it, heart to heart.

I don’t escape, I don’t run free,

I learn who’s running through me.

And in that truth — so stripped, so bare —

I find a Hand that’s always there.

Strong In my Ego Weak in My Hands

“Strong in My Ego, Weak in My Hands”

I said I wanted You,

but I wanted me more.

Said “all for Heaven,”

counted receipts on the floor.

I talked about love,

while stepping on friends,

Called it “discernment,”

hid knives in the ends.

I read all the books,

quoted line after line,

But my heart stayed closed,

said “later,” not “mine.”

I wanted bestowal

as an upgrade, a perk,

A ribbon on ego,

not death to my work.

Then You broke my legs

right under my pride,

Let Pharaoh laugh

while I swallowed the lie.

I pushed.

I prayed.

I worked till I bled.

And somehow I sank

even deeper instead.

Every good deed

reeked of reward,

Every prayer

had me at the core.

Friends looked like mirrors

I couldn’t stand,

Each one exposing

the rot in my hand.

That’s when I learned

what “weak” really means—

Not tired muscles,

but shattered routines.

Weak is when love

is no longer a choice,

When without You

there is no inner voice.

Weak is when life

feels colder than death,

When Kedusha won’t enter

the lungs of your breath.

And strong—

Strong was my ego,

my logic, my plan,

Strong was my mouth

saying “I understand.”

So You did the miracle

no hero survives:

You handed my strength

to the weak in my life.

You let the few cries

break the many excuses,

Let purity win

where knowledge abuses.

You showed me my sin

with surgical care,

Not to crush me—

to prove You were there.

Now I don’t ask for luxury,

titles, or light—

Just don’t let me live

without You in sight.

If bestowal doesn’t come

I am already dead,

So take this heart,

break it—

and make it instead.