Same Boat Same Oar

I thought responsibility meant standing tall,

Doing my part, never ready to fall.

Fixing my steps, correcting my way,

Proving my worth day after day.

But the truth broke through like a merciless wave:

No one here asked me to be brave.

No one asked me to finish the race—

Only to care for the friends in this place.

We’re all in one boat, cracked and worn,

Floating between despair and dawn.

No one steering, no one clean,

Just broken hearts and borrowed dreams.

I have no power to fix a soul,

No strength to make another whole.

I can’t force light, I can’t command sight,

I can’t pull a friend out of night.

So where’s my work if I can’t perform?

Where’s responsibility if I can’t transform?

It hit me hard, simple and clear—

My job is to stay near.

To care when faith runs dry,

To hold the rope when spirits die.

Not to lift them, not to lead—

But to remind them we all need.

Responsibility isn’t doing it right,

It’s refusing to leave the fight.

It’s saying, “Brother, I’m just like you—

Same doubts, same storms, same view.”

And when that care is real and bare,

Something unseen fills the air.

Not from me, not from them—

But a force that flows when we don’t pretend.

That’s where the Light finds room to breathe,

Not in heroes, not in belief.

It moves when we finally see—

Connection is responsibility.

So I stop performing, I drop the mask,

I don’t ask who failed the task.

I take my place, shoulder to oar,

Same broken boat, same sea, same shore.

And somehow—listen, this is true—

The boat holds steady, the sky breaks through.

Because when we care without demand or claim,

Bestowal rows in our name.

Stand Guard

 Stand Guard

One must stand guard when the heart wants sleep,

When the mouth says faith but the tears won’t weep.

When lessons play and the body’s there,

But the soul is missing its daily care.

We say “day” when the light feels near,

We say “night” when the goal’s unclear.

But truth cuts deep when we check inside—

We guard the hours, not the fire we hide.

We wake for lessons, coffee in hand,

But who’s evoking the heart of the man?

Who knocks on the chest when the friend goes quiet,

When absence becomes our silent diet?

We mourn the missing, yet still move on,

Calling it patience, calling it strong.

But love that waits and never calls

Is fear dressed up as spiritual walls.

We say, “He’s busy,” “Life’s too tight,”

While hearts drift off into endless night.

What’s missing isn’t the chairs or names—

It’s the cry that burns without shame.

What’s missing is trembling, raw and loud,

Not polished prayers or spiritual pride.

What’s missing is fear of losing the bond,

Fear of a ten that forgets its one.

We guard our comfort, our roles, our place,

But not the breach in a brother’s face.

We guard the form, the times, the law—

But who guards the love that must never pause?

And here the blade cuts clean and true:

The missing piece… is me and you.

Not them who drifted, not fate, not time—

But our refusal to cross the line.

For to evoke a heart is to bleed first,

To choose their lack above your thirst.

To shout into darkness, “You’re not alone,”

And stake your soul on that single tone.

And now—the rise, the oath, the flame:

We stand as guards in the Creator’s name.

Day or night, joy or collapse,

We wake the heart till the sparks relapse—

Till love ignites without command,

Till the ten stands whole, one heart, one man.

And the night itself begins to sing,

Because we guarded everything.

There Is a Chair Still Warm

 

“There Is a Chair Still Warm”

We didn’t gather by chance, we were pulled by a thread

From a spark in the heart to the words that were said

From Israel nights when the sounds weren’t clear

Still the bond was forming, even through fear

We learned without language, through effort and pain

When Hebrew fell silent, the heart still remained

Not every word landed, not every line fit

But the longing was louder than intellect

Carl held the line when the work felt tight

James burned like a candle, pure love, pure light

Jean ran the race till the world called his name

Oscar carried burdens we never could blame

Time pulled them sideways, work pulled them away

But love doesn’t vanish just ‘cause life gets loud in the day

There’s a seat at the table that still knows their shape

And a space in the circle no one can replace

Now Carl still anchors, steady and true

Terry brings warmth in all that we do

Joe Bash with fire, Joe Donnelly with care

Derick stands firm, shoulders squared in prayer

Louis brings depth where silence speaks

Ilya holds truth when the ego leaks

Aron arrives with a heart wide open

And I stand with them, cracked — but chosen

But hear this clear, and hear it from love

The work doesn’t move without help from above

And above doesn’t move without hearts down here

Showing up tired, confused, sincere

Lessons aren’t lectures, meals aren’t food

They’re stitches that hold the shattered soul glued

When one goes missing, the fabric feels thin

The light hesitates… waiting to enter again

We don’t need perfection, we don’t need strength

We need your presence — that’s the length

Of the bridge that carries us over the fall

One missing heart weakens the call

So if you’re reading this late, worn down, unsure

Thinking your absence won’t change the cure

Know this — the Ten is not whole without you

And the Creator is waiting through what we do

The chair’s still warm, the plate’s still set

The lesson still aches for you to be met

Come sit with us — broken, late, afraid

That’s exactly how this vessel is made