From Atonement to Joy

From Atonement to Joy

The shofar cried out, a new year begun,

A crown for the King, the many made one.

We trembled and prayed, each heart took its place,

Yearning for mercy, for closeness, for grace.

Yom Kippur arrived, a white day of flame,

We shed all our garments of ego and shame.

No food for the body, no drink for the clay,

But rivers of tears washed the barriers away.

From silence of hunger to fullness of song,

The gates of compassion stay open, lifelong.

For atonement was only the key to the door,

To enter the house where true love can soar.

Now every day given is seed in the ground,

Watered by friends where the Shechina is found.

The joy is in giving, in love’s quiet call,

Advancing together, bestowing to all.

The Generations of the Righteous

The Generations of the Righteous

The fruit of the righteous is not flesh and bone,

But deeds of bestowal the soul has grown.

Not words of the lips, nor rituals wide,

But actions for Heaven where ego has died.

In days of ascent, he is praised in song,

In nights of descent, they condemn him as wrong.

Yet both are his children, both day and the night,

Each fall is a vessel prepared for the Light.

The narrow-eyed man sees the Torah for gain,

The good-eyed reads love in each holy refrain.

The one sows for self, and his fruits turn to dust,

The other for Heaven, his harvest is just.

Two wives walk beside him: the Shadow, the Flame,

Faith over reason, and Torah by name.

Together they crown him, his wholeness they weave,

The generations of righteous—the deeds that believe.

“Tear the Heart, Heal the Soul”

I stand accused in silence, bare,

My lips refused the needed prayer.

I sinned in hunger for my name,

I sinned by never calling Your flame.

The sin was not in lust or gold,

But that I thought my hands could hold.

I swore I’d climb without Your rope,

And drowned myself in empty hope.

Then You broke me, gates all sealed,

My wisdom mocked, my strength revealed.

My faith was shattered, crushed like glass,

I kissed the dirt, no breath could pass.

At last came tears, not mine but Yours,

They split my chest, they cracked the doors.

The gates of tears swung open wide,

I crawled on bleeding knees inside.

“Father, King, no King but You,

Without Your mercy, I am through.

I cannot love unless You give,

I cannot rise, I cannot live.”

Between my friend and me, I plead,

Between my soul and You, I bleed.

Take judgment, twist it into grace,

Bind Malchut to ZA’s embrace.

Make of my vessel a home for light,

Make of my ashes a crown of night.

If death should come, let it be Your call,

If life, then let it be for all.

You do not wish the wicked’s end,

But turn him back, become his friend.

So here I stand, stripped down, undone,

A weeping child, a shattered one.

Tear me, burn me, grind to dust,

But kiss my ruins with Your trust.

Turn failure’s grave to mercy’s dove,

Turn tears of pain to tears of love.

And when the book is sealed above,

Let it be written: He returned to love.

Two Days Lost, One Love Remains

Two Days Lost, One Love Remains

I chase this world, its fleeting prize,
But find it empty, filled with lies.
I crave the crown of heaven too,
And so I fall from You by two.

The body lends, then calls its debt,
Demands reward for what it let.
It whispers, “Who? And what for you?
Why labor hard with nothing due?”

I answer sharp, I will not bend,
I work for Him without an end.
No crowns, no gold, no fleeting gain,
But only joy through love and pain.

The will to take will always fight,
It mocks the path, it hides the Light.
Yet through its hate, His love is known,
For joy is found in Him alone.

So if I fall, I’ll rise once more,
To serve in faith, my heart made pure.
Two days I lost, but one I find—
Eternal love, above the mind.

The Laziness of the Created Being

The Laziness of the Created Being

The soul awoke, yet the body said, “No…

Stay down in the dust, let the river not flow.

Why strain to climb when the bed feels so sweet?

Why run to the King when the chains bind your feet?”

The Ari wrote of circles, of lines drawn so thin,

Where the Light begs to enter—but we slumber within.

Baal HaSulam cries out: “This sleep is your test,

It drapes you in weakness, yet summons your quest.”

Rabash whispers gently: “This weight is a sign,

The Creator Himself presses on your spine.

Not to crush, but to bend, to annul and to pray,

To show that your strength is not yours anyway.”

And Rashbi declared in the dark of the cave,

That the sloth of the flesh is the mask of the grave.

But through unity’s fire, through friends hand in hand,

The mountain of laziness turns into sand.

Rav Laitman reminds us: “Do not curse the night,

It’s the cloak of concealment that births your new sight.

Above reason you rise, though the ego says ‘rest,’

For love is the ladder, and the ten is your chest.”

So I thank You, Creator, for the slowness, the pause,

For the laziness clothed in Your infinite laws.

For it’s only by dragging this weight up the hill,

That I learn it’s not my strength—but Yours that fulfills.

The Saboteur Was Sitting

The Saboteur Was Sitting

The saboteur sits grinning in my chest,

Mocking my faith, saying, “You’ll fail this test.

Your prayers are dust, your efforts a lie,

Your ladder is broken, don’t even try.”

He sharpens his tongue like a rusted blade,

Carves doubt in my soul where trust was laid.

He cackles, “Your friends will stumble too—

Why fight for them? They’re nothing to you.”

I spit blood back, though my strength is thin,

I drag my heart where the war begins.

Each thought is a knife, each breath a scream,

But still I cling to the shattered dream.

“Above reason,” I shout through choking fire,

“In this ruin burns the one desire—

To bind with my brothers, to annul this ‘I,’

To find the Creator, though He seems to deny.”

The saboteur shatters, his laughter fades,

For love has a sword no darkness degrades.

Hand in hand with the Ten, we rise above,

From brutal despair to unending love.

a poem on The Purpose of Society -1 By Rabash

We came as beasts, with teeth and claws,

Each guarding self with iron laws.

The bread of shame burned in our hand,

We’d eat, then choke, on shifting sand.

The world concealed, the Light withdrew,

Fear whispered, “It’s not for you.”

The ego laughed—its throne secure,

“Take all you can, what’s mine is yours.”

But one by one, we bent the spine,

Annulled the “I,” the beast, the swine.

Hitbatlut: I’m nothing, dust and breath,

I choose this death to conquer death.

Then hearts began to intertwine,

Hitkalelut—your pain is mine.

Your joy my song, your cry my prayer,

No “I” remained, just love to share.

The fire rose, no walls could stay,

Hitpaalut—our souls would sway.

The Shechina wept, then found her nest,

Within the circle, love confessed.

So brutal was the path we trod,

To die as men, to live with God.

Yet from the ashes, hearts above,

We burned away… to unconditional love.

shamati 99 a poem

 

Born a fool, with no flame in the night,

No hunger for wisdom, no yearning for Light—

The drop is decreed, “weakling, fool,” so it seems,

Condemned to the dust, to a life without dreams.

Yet the Creator, in mercy, He scattered the seeds,

Planted the righteous to answer our needs.

For alone we are ashes, corpses that rot,

But beside the great ones, new powers are caught.

The fool has no vessel, no craving, no fight,

But he cleaves to the righteous—receives their delight.

What I lack from my birth, I inherit through them,

As a beggar made king in Jerusalem.

Without them, my Torah is poison, a knife,

But with them it blossoms and gives me true life.

So wicked or righteous is not in the bone,

It’s chosen in love, it’s chosen in home.

So I fall on my face, in weakness I cry,

“Friends, lift me upward, don’t let me die!”

And the Creator replies with a whisper above:

“You are righteous through them… through faith, through love.”

 In the womb of our love hides a truth yet concealed,

Our ego screams loudly, refusing to yield.

It whispers, “You’re nothing, you’ll fail and you’ll fall,”

It builds up a tower, then crushes it all.

Alone we are broken, confused and deceived,

No hope in the heart, no faith to believe.

The mind runs in circles, the soul turns to stone,

Each step that we take feels colder, alone.

But then—like a spark in the dark of the night,

The heart cracks wide open and lets in the Light.

The friends stand beside us, their hands interlaced,

The fire of love burns the ego erased.

And there in the center, the secret is shown:

One heart, one desire, one truth we’ve been shown.

The path of the Ten, the Creator’s own art,

His love beats eternal in one united heart.

Through Hitbatlut — we bow and annul,

Through Hitkalelut — we mix, heart and soul.

Through Hitpa’alut — His Light floods apart,

One breath, one desire, one love, one heart

 The line descends, a whisper, thin,

A pipeline drawn, where worlds begin.

It bends, it arcs, it rounds the night,

Each circle born from endless Light.

Keter first, so near, so high,

The crown that kisses Ein Sof’s sky.

Hochma follows, wisdom’s flame,

Then Bina forms, her womb, her name.

One by one the rings are spun,

Until the tenth, where work is done.

Malchut waits, the vessel’s call,

Embracing circles, one through all.

Ten within ten, the dance complete,

Each step a heartbeat, calm, discreet.

The order sings, the Light does flow,

From endless heights to depths below.