Psalms In The Heart

  I came with fish clenched hard in hand, Certain my hunger should command. He wanted dogs, another route— And ego rose with sacred doubt. I thought the war was food or place, Not Pharaoh screaming for first place. I called it “truth,” “concern,” “what’s best”— But self sat grinning in my chest. The Ten said move. I wanted still. The Rosh spoke clear. I fought his will. Not with fists—much worse than that— A silent “yes”… while pride fought back. For brutal is the path of few: Not proving that my choice is true, But crucifying inner throne To build one heart above my own. What is fish? What are hot dogs? Dust. What is “my way”? A serpent’s lust. The meal’s not holy—the work is where I kill the tyrant hiding there. Before the choice, I speak my part. I bring my thought, my mind, my heart. But once the head has drawn the line— His path, for us, must now be mine. Because a body torn by pride Leaves Light outside with self inside. A thousand “rights” can break the chain, While o...