Psalms In The Heart

  “The Torah That Didn’t Fix Me” I learned Your words like iron and stone, But kept my throne—still all my own. I stacked up pages, proud and sure, Yet stayed the same—unclean, impure. I wore the verses like a crown, While secret dust still dragged me down. I called it “study,” called it “light,” But dodged the war inside the night. Because the truth is hard to bear: My heart wants payment, not to care. It wants a God who serves my plan, A holy stamp for selfish man. So when You hid, I took offense, Like I deserved a recompense. My mouth turned Pharaoh—Peh Ra grin, And holy words became my sin. Then came the crack—no place to run, No taste in gold, no warmth in sun. I saw my Torah had a cost: Without the work, the Light is lost. So here’s my plea—no clever art: Don’t feed my brain— reform my heart . Take this dust and raise it high, Make bestowal my battle-cry. Let me bless the goal before I read, Not for applause—but to be freed. Let Torah be Your clothing near, And let me...