Psalms In The Heart

It Appears to Me (If We Want to See) It appears to me If we want to see Don’t look back Increase the lack What’s missing is not some hidden sign It’s the will to leave me behind The past keeps whispering, “You were right” But sight is born only in forward night The ego begs comfort, proof, and control While the soul cries out for a shared hole Not a hole of despair or private pain But a common absence we all sustain Don’t polish the wound, don’t dress it nice Let it burn clean, let it demand a price The lack is the place where truth can stand When I stop reaching with my own hand If I look back, I justify why I’m here If I look forward, I tremble in fear But fear is the gate that faith walks through When the “I” dissolves into “we” and “you” So don’t ask answers, don’t beg to be shown Build the space where He’s already known For vision arrives, simple and free When your lack becomes ours — it appears to me.

The Place Where Ten Become One We were not gathered for comfort or peace, But to expose the grip of the will to receive. A force was required, not one man alone, For the evil resists where it’s privately owned. So we agreed—without contract or name— That the goal stands above loss and gain. And from that consent, a power was born: To fight oneself, where the true war is sworn. Each one included in all the rest, No hero survives this particular test. For the strength of the many lives only where I dissolve my claim to being “more” or “aware.” Annulment is not a lowering of head, But choosing the friends’ merits instead. The moment I rise above even one, I sever the thread—we are no longer one. In every ten, a whole stature stands: Head, body, heels, and unseen hands. And blessed is not the one who ascends, But the one who feels lowest among his friends. For abundance flows through the place most null, Where the self is emptied, not spiritualized full. Not wisdom, not fire, not kno...

Prayer and Forgiveness in the Work No one ascends alone, that lie cuts deep, The ego whispers, “Your seeds are yours to keep.” It crowns itself king, says “Stand and be strong,” While quietly proving it’s been wrong all along. First comes the blow, the fracture, the crack, Troubles arrive and the heart fights back. I curse the road, the world, the pain, Never once asking Who pulls the rein? Rabash says: stop—look straight at the root, Name the desire, call evil its suit. The will to receive dressed holy and wise Is the very source where the darkness lies. Not shame, not guilt, not beating the chest, But clear recognition—this thing is the test. All evil revealed in a single sight: The ego alone blocks the Light. Then prayer is born—not words, not song, But a scream that admits “I waited too long.” Forgiveness is asked—not for sin or mistake, But for not turning sooner when the heart began to break. “I blamed the world, I blamed my fate, I blamed the friends, I blamed the gate. Forgive ...