One Shared Heart

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Traveling through the city day after day

seeing the lost love in every way

wondering what’s next for those who don’t see

how to relate to them the way things should be

I watch them rush with eyes cast low

carrying weights they’ll never show

phones in their hands, hearts locked tight

chasing small comforts to get through the night

I’m no better, I bleed the same

wear different masks, play the same game

thinking I’m whole ‘cause I study and pray

while ego still whispers, you’re fine—stay this way

So how do I love them, cracked as I am

with shaking knees and an empty plan

not fixing their lives, not preaching the truth

but standing beside them in borrowed youth

Maybe it’s silence, maybe a glance

maybe just giving the heart a chance

to feel their burden as if it were mine

and beg the Creator to stitch us in time

No speeches, no flags, no winning the fight

just choosing connection in plain daylight

city keeps moving, lost love still stays

but one shared heart can redeem our days

A Clean Slate Between Us

“A Clean Slate Between Us”

We come to the Ten with a tired face,

Dragging the week, the doubts, the race.

Each one certain he’s failed again,

Silent despair tucked under his skin.

We sit together yet guard our pain,

Speaking of storms, of loss, of strain.

Not seeing how every careless word

Can drain the life from a friend unheard.

We say we came to give, to unite,

Yet carry the night into the light.

We forget the charge placed in our hand—

To raise the hearts, not help them sink in sand.

Because a friend does not need my truth

If my truth strips him of strength and youth.

He needs my fire, my borrowed breath,

Not my poetry dressed up as death.

The work is simple and cruelly clear:

Bring life into what’s trembling with fear.

Not wisdom, not depth, not clever lines—

But hope that says, “You’re doing just fine.”

To sit in the Ten is not to confess,

It’s to cancel myself for the group’s success.

If I leave him heavier than before,

Then I robbed the society at its core.

I must walk in like dawn after rain,

Even if inside I’m screaming in pain.

Because the slate is wiped—not by time—

But when I lift him, and he lifts mine.

Yesterday I faced a mountain too tall,

Ego roaring, ready to let me fall.

Today the same mountain shrinks to dust—

Not by my strength, but the friends I trust.

They didn’t argue, they didn’t explain,

They didn’t echo my doubts and pain.

They gave me a mood, a pulse, a start—

They believed for me with a borrowed heart.

This is the crime we repeat each day:

We come to receive, then get in the way.

We forget the law written sharp and plain—

The society lives or dies by what we bring.

So I stand accused—and I stand in love,

Because this demand descends from Above.

To be a place where a friend can say:

“Now I begin—today’s a new day.”

Not because the path suddenly cleared,

But because the Ten made courage appear.

And if I fail, then let this be true:

I will fail trying to give life to you.

And when we do this—man to man—

The mountain bows, the work begins.

The Creator smiles, unseen yet near,

Because hope walked in—and He followed here.

Standing for The Creator

Standing for the Creator

We work all day in this corporal life

Pulled between hunger and heavenly strife

Never asking, what’s the game?

’Cause every blow feels just the same

Everything sent us is meant to mend

The shattered will the heart must send

Not to escape, not to defend,

But face the place where cracks must bend

No running off when strength runs thin,

No holy mask to hide the sin

When faith goes dry and hope feels dead,

We stand on what the sages said

No bargain struck, no deal for light,

Just choosing truth in endless night

The work is done where no one sees,

Between the fear and bent knees

Each breath a vow we never said,

Each step a prayer the ego bled

Not crowned below, not marked by fame,

But known Above—by standing in His Name

Not seen by day, not praised by way,

Yet lighting worlds by how we stay

“NOT THE PAYCHECK — THE HANDS”

 

 “NOT THE PAYCHECK — THE HANDS”

 (English)

We don’t move unless there’s rest at the end,

We won’t lift a finger unless something bends.

It’s not laziness, no—this goes deeper than that,

We’re built from a Root that never once had to act.

Creation was born with a hunger inside,

A will just to take, to be filled, satisfied.

So why’s the table set, but the feast locked away?

Why’s the Light knocking softly, but we can’t say “stay”?

Because taking feels rotten when form’s not aligned,

Receiving for self leaves a bad taste behind.

So the Light pulled back—not from lack, not from fear,

But to teach us how to receive without shame in the mirror.

So what’s the reward? Not pleasure, not gold,

Not blessings stacked high or stories retold.

The paycheck is this—say it slow, say it true:

Give me the hands that know how to give You.

Not the feast—give me hunger that’s clean,

Not the wine—give me vessels unseen.

Give me screens, give me reflected flame,

So when I receive, I don’t feel the same.

There’s lines in the road—some you don’t cross,

Some you can walk but you feel the cost.

Some deeds are holy even done half-blind,

And some are empty if self’s on the mind.

Lo Lishma still walks toward the door,

Slow as hell—but it gets there for sure.

But Lishma? That sticks like bone to bone,

Each step tighter—till you’re never alone.

So don’t ask Heaven to spoil your plate,

Ask for a heart that can carry the weight.

Because when bestowal becomes who you are,

You inherit the table, the Light, and the star.

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שִׁיר – עברית (Hebrew)

לא זזים בלי מנוחה בקצה הדרך,

לא פועלים בלי שכר שמרגיש בטוח.

זה לא עצלות—זה שורש קדום,

בורא בלי תנועה, בלי שינוי, בלי שום פגם.

הרצון לקבל הוא כל מה שנברא,

אז למה האור מחכה ולא נכנס כבר?

כי קבלה לעצמי צורבת בפנים,

בלי השתוות הצורה—זה נשאר חסר טעם בפנים.

אז הצמצום בא מאהבה מדויקת,

לא להסתיר—רק ללמד איך מקבלים באמת.

אז מה השכר? לא עונג, לא אור,

רק כלים להשפעה—וזה כל הסיפור.

לא האור—תן לי מסך יציב,

לא התענוג—תן לי לב שמקריב.

אור חוזר, כוונה זכה,

שאקבל רק כדי לשמח אותך.

יש אסור, מותר, ויש מצווה,

יש בלי כוונה ויש לשמה.

לא לשמה—זה לא אבוד,

אבל לשמה—שם נדבקים בייחוד.

אז אל תבקש תשלום מהשמיים,

בקש ידיים שיודעות להשפיע באמת.

כי כשיש כלים של נתינה בלב,