The Accuser's Dance

“The Accuser’s Dance”

It drags me low, whispers of gain,

My heart is torn by hunger and pain.

I fight alone, but always lose,

The serpent laughs at the paths I choose.

It rises high to the throne above,

Accusing me, denying love.

“You see?” it cries, “He cannot stand,

He builds on dust, not on holy land.”

I break, I fall, I cannot pretend,

Without my brothers there is no end.

But in the Ten, a spark ignites,

Together we wrestle the endless night.

First comes Hitbatlut—I bow my head,

My pride dissolves, my self is dead.

Then Hitkalelut—I weave with friends,

Their voices heal, the fracture mends.

And Hitpa’alut—their fire burns,

From their devotion, my soul returns.

The accuser flees, the cry takes flight,

A prayer is born in the heart’s twilight.

Now rise, my friends, as one we call,

Creator hears the plea of all.

From descent to ascent, the secret’s clear:

Through unity alone, the Light draws near.

The Three H’s in My Heart

The Three H’s in My Heart

In the silence I bow, my will undone,

Hitbatlut whispers: “You are none.”

I break on the stones of my stubborn pride,

The tears are rivers where I hide.

Yet in the Ten, a spark takes flight,

Hitkalalut blends my dark with light.

Inclusion burns, both wound and balm,

Their voices storm, then bring me calm.

But oh, the cries that tear my soul,

Faith demands I pay the toll.

Love is forged in suffering’s flame,

I lose myself to find His Name.

Hitpa’alut—enliven me still!

Through endless nights, a trembling will.

Pain is holy, faith is fire,

In this love, I rise higher.

So let me die a thousand ways,

And live anew through endless days.

In three H’s my spirit bends—

The path of sorrow that never ends.

Yet in that breaking, hearts are one,

A prayer complete, His will is done.

When Ego Yields

As I ready to lay my head at night,

I’m filled with visions of love and fright,

Not knowing whether to run and hide,

Or face the ego’s horrific pride.

I set my intention to only bestow,

It’s not about what you think you know

It’s how to turn all that wrath,

Into the steps of  faith’s path.

Through shadows deep my spirit bends,

Where brokenness secretly mends,

Each tear a prayer, each sigh a song,

That lifts me to where I belong.

So let me rise above despair,

With every breath, a whispered prayer,

Till all the night is bathed in light,

And ego yields to love’s true might.

The Storm and the Kiss

The Storm and the Kiss

I lit a candle, small and weak,

The storm just laughed: “That’s not what you seek.”

It blew it out with a wicked grin,

“Come closer, fool, the game begins.”

---

My lust stood tall with hungry eyes,

Promising flesh, forgetting skies.

It whispered hot, “Forget His name,

There’s sweeter fire, there’s easier flame.”

But pain arrived, a faithful thief,

It robbed my rest, it tore belief.

Still, in the wound, a voice was near,

“Through broken bones, My Light appears.”

---

Suffering dressed in bridal white,

Danced with me deep into the night.

A kiss of salt, a whip of flame,

Yet every lash still cried Your name.

---

And humor came, drunk clown of fate,

He tripped me hard at heaven’s gate.

I cursed, I laughed, the angels cheered,

The demons bowed, the storm grew weird.

---

Creator, You sly comedian, You,

You wound with left, then heal with blue.

You tempt, You trick, You strike, You shove,

Yet all is stitched with secret love.

---

For though I fall, I still adore,

The lips that wound, the hands that war.

The thunder breaks, the lightning burns,

But in its eye—Your mercy turns.

---

So storm me, bind me, mock my cry,

I’ll love You still until I die.

Through lust and laughter, pain and shame,

My soul is Yours, through fire, through flame.

And when I drown, or rise above,

I’ll storm with You, my storm of love.

The Ten as Sefirot

Ten friends together, one circle of flame,

Each shines a facet, though none are the same.

One gives with kindness, another with might,

Together they weave the Creator’s Light.

Alone we are fragments, confused and apart,

But joined we discover one vessel, one heart.

Like colors refracting through sapphire’s face,

We fashion a prism for infinite grace.

At times I am Hod, in silence I bend,

At times I am Netzach, determined to end.

Another is Tiferet, harmonies blend,

Malchut receives all that upward we send.

No friend is complete in the work on his own,

But each is a Sefira, a spark that is sown.

And when we unite with no self in between,

The Light of the Infinite fills us unseen.

So bind us together, O Father above,

Correct us through mercy, through strength, and through love.

Let ten become one, as Your wisdom has taught,

A soul made of Sefirot, living and wrought.

The Hidden Script

Ancient names carved in clay and stone,

Anunnaki, angels—forces unknown.

Were they beings, or codes in disguise,

Programs of will in the Creator’s eyes?

They whisper through myths, through temples and scrolls,

Of life once vast, of unmeasured souls.

Yet sages declare with a steady hand,

It’s not gods of earth, but the One command.

Our bodies hold letters, a silent song,

DNA scripts that sleep for long.

Experts call it “junk,” yet others say,

It hides our powers, locked away.

But no hand of Thoth, nor science’s key,

Can force the gates of eternity.

For these strands awaken when hearts align,

In love of another, the light will shine.

Kinetic gifts, a prophetic sight,

Are sparks revealed in the upper light.

Not tricks for the self, but tools to restore,

The bond of the soul to its root once more.

So seek not the gods of forgotten lands,

But gather your brothers, join hands.

For only in love, the sages say clear,

The dormant awakens, the angels appear.

From a Seeker’s View

I stood before the Pharaoh in me,

His voice was sharp, his words cut free:

“Who is the Lord that you should serve?

Your longing’s weak, your will has no nerve.”

I turned, I fought, I pushed through the night,

Yet another arose to weaken my sight:

Sihon and Og, they whispered within,

“Israel in you is too frail to win.

The goal is high, the path is steep,

Leave it to others, their roots run deep.

You’re small, unworthy, a broken flame,

Why dare to walk the Creator’s name?”

Between their words my heart grew tight,

I felt no strength, no spark, no light.

Yet a whisper stirred, so soft, so near:

“Above all reason, the truth is clear.

No might, no power, no lion’s roar,

But faith alone can open the door.

The hand of the Creator lifts the weak,

And gives the words my soul must speak.

So I walk in trust, though blind I go,

Above the heart, above what I know.

For He alone can break their rod,

And guide my steps to the path of God.”

The Torah is an Indication

The Torah’s not stories carved in stone,

It’s a whisper inside, a path to the Throne.

It points to the heart where the shadows reside,

And shines with a Light that corrects us inside.

We read not for wisdom, nor tales to adore,

But to summon a force that can open the door.

The ego resists, it laughs, “Not today!”

Yet the Light says, “My child, I’ll show you the way.”

The Torah’s an indication, not the prize we hold,

It’s the lamp in the night, turning iron to gold.

With friends by our side, in unity’s flame,

We rewrite our nature, we’re no longer the same.

So with humor and pain, with longing and song,

We chase not the stories we’ve carried so long.

But the Light that reforms, that teaches to give,

In love of the other—we start to truly live.

In the Fog We Find the Light

My head is a storm, my thoughts are unclear,

The path disappears, yet the friends are near.

Confusion is heavy, it bends me low,

But the Light hides inside the “I don’t know.”

I cannot clean the mind with my hands of clay,

So I give it to You, take the fog away.

Not for myself do I ask to be bright,

But to build us a vessel that shines with Your Light.

The Ten is my compass, the stars in my sky,

Without them I stumble, I fail, and I cry.

So I cling to their hearts, though my reason may fall,

Above all the noise—I hear Your call.

So let this confusion become my prayer,

A cry from the depths that rises in air.

Correct this vessel, broken and small,

Unite us together—and dwell in us all.

The Society’s Song

I thought I could climb to the heavens alone,

But my ego just laughed with a heart made of stone.

Each step that I took, I fell twice as deep,

Till the friends came around and pulled me from sleep.

The world says, “Take more!”—it shouts with a grin,

But the heart knows the truth: that’s the root of our sin.

So I sit with my brothers, their fire my light,

In the heat of their love, my soul takes its flight.

When one heart grows weary and falls to the ground,

The others rush quickly, they circle around.

For sparks join as one till a bonfire’s born,

And together we rise through the night and the morn.

It hurts to let go of the “I” that I love,

It feels like I’m torn by the heavens above.

Yet laughter breaks out through the sorrow and pain,

For losing myself is the truest of gain.

The Creator hides not in the sky or the sea,

But in bonds between hearts, in the love of the we.

So I’ll cling to my friends, for it’s here I can see,

That the place of the Lord is our sweet unity.

the world is filled with such self love

even though we know its all from above

the war we are fighting deep with in

to ignore it in truth is a sin

so unite together ones heart and soul

all to pay tribute to the one that is whole

so rise above the fleeting flame

forget the honor, forget the name

hold the friends as your living prayer

for the Creator is hidden there

with laughter, sorrow, joy, and pain

we weave one song, one sweet refrain

to give, not take, is our only role

united as one, we form one soul

The Battle Within

Inside my chest a war is waged,

Israel’s spark feels small and caged.

The nations roar, they want it all,

While Israel whispers, fragile, small.

The ego laughs, “You’ll never win,

I’ve got desire, thick as sin!”

But Israel clings with trembling might,

To faith above, beyond the sight.

The Torah’s light, a hidden sword,

It lifts the spark toward its Lord.

Not to destroy, but to transform,

The nations bend, their will reform.

At times I fall, they take the crown,

The klipot dance and drag me down.

But from the ten, a hand extends,

“Get up, you fool! Connect to friends!”

In love and pain I rise once more,

Through laughter, tears, the heart is sore.

The spark of Israel, though so slight,

Can summon heaven’s endless light.

So let the nations mock and jeer,

The path is narrow, sharp, severe—

Yet through the suffering, joy is sown,

For Israel’s seed is not my own.

It is the Creator, dwelling deep,

Awakening hearts that long to weep.

And in that cry, the nations fall—

The spark of Israel rules them all.

"The Bridge of Baal HaSulam"

I walked with pockets full of dreams,

And shoes with holes that leaked in streams.

The path was steep, the sky was torn,

I cursed the day that I was born.

Then came a man with eyes of flame,

Who called my sorrow out by name.

He said, “Child, your grief’s not random fate,

It’s bait to pull you to Heaven’s gate.”

He laughed at my pride, and slapped my despair,

Said, “The Creator put both in your hair.

One’s to lift, the other to bend,

Both are tools to reach the end.”

“The world,” he said, “is a crooked hall,

With mirrors that trick and shadows that call.

But if you link arms, all hearts as one,

You’ll find the doorway back to the Sun.”

And so we walk, in mud and in light,

Some days we stumble, some nights we fight.

But oh, when a friend takes your burden to bear—

You feel the Creator already there.

So thank you, Rav, for the map and the song,

For showing the weak where the strong belong.

In the end we will laugh at the pain we have known,

For all of it carved us into His own.

🎭 Poem: "Elul Blues (The Ballad of the Brokenhearted Beloved)"

Style: Bitter-sweet blues with a wink of holy foolishness

---

I woke up in Elul with a heart full of holes,

My coffee was bitter, my soul felt old.

“I am my Beloved’s,” I tried to recite—

But my Wi-Fi was down and the Light was in flight.

I put on my tefillin and sang a sad song,

"Where are You, Beloved? What took You so long?"

But the heavens were silent, just like my phone,

And the will to receive said, “You’re on your own.”

I danced with my sorrow, my pain wore a grin,

My ego laughed, “He won’t let you in!”

Still, I knocked and I cried, with a love that won’t quit—

And the answer came back: “You ain’t earned it yet.”

So I fasted from reason, feasted on faith,

Marinated my heart in a doubt-laced wraith.

Each mitzvah I did with a tear and a joke,

Like grilling a steak with no meat or smoke.

“I’ll love You,” I whispered, “though I’m broke and bruised,

Though my vessels are shattered, and my soul's confused.

I give You this mess, all cracked and flawed,

Because You, my Beloved, are still my God.”

Then a whisper returned through the silence and ache,

Like a breeze through the ruins that never quite break.

“My beloved,” it hummed, “you remembered the call—

And I was beside you through pain and through fall.”

So I’m back in the work with a limp and a grin,

Elul’s my rehab for shedding old skin.

The sorrow still bites, the humor still stings—

But love is a ladder that pain sometimes brings.

The Soul’s Stumbling Waltz

Oh, soul, you clumsy spark of light,

Dropped from the heavens, a comical sight!

You tripped on a star, fell into this clay,

Now stuck in a body, you grumble all day.

“Why this mess?” you moan with a frown,

This world’s a circus, and I’m the clown!

(Humor’s the balm when the ego’s a pain,

You laugh through the mud, or you’ll go insane.)

Love calls you softly, a whisper, a flame,

“Connect with the others, forget your own name!”

Baal HaSulam nods from his perch in the sky,

“Give up your ‘me,’ and your soul will fly high.”

You try, oh you try, with a heart full of care,

But your neighbor’s loud snoring? Too much to bear!

Yet love’s the glue, the spark, the divine,

It stitches the world with a thread so fine.

Sorrow creeps in, like a thief in the night,

The soul feels the fracture, the absence of light.

You chase fleeting pleasures, but they slip away,

Like sand through your fingers, they just won’t stay.

“Why this longing?” you cry, with a tear-streaked face,

This world feels too heavy, too cruel a place.

Baal HaSulam whispers, “That pain’s your guide,

It points to the truth you’ve buried inside.”

Pain, oh the pain, it’s the ego’s sharp sting,

Each selfish desire pulls a tight, bitter string.

But here’s the secret, the Kabbalist’s art:

The hurt’s just a map to your wandering heart.

Trade “I” for “we,” let your soul take the leap,

Find joy in the giving, though the climb may be steep.

With a wink and a sigh, you’ll laugh at the strain,

For love heals the sorrow, and light soothes the pain.

So dance, little soul, through this wild, messy show,

With humor to lighten, and love’s gentle glow.

Sorrow and pain are your teachers, your friends,

They carve out the path where the ego’s reign ends.

Baal HaSulam smiles, his ladder in view,

“Climb, spark of Light—your Creator waits for you!”

The Battle Within

Life is a wonder, a challenge to be had,

An internal battle that makes one sad.

Obstacles approaching from every side—

What are these obstacles giving us a ride?

They come when we try to reveal

What the ego has cleverly concealed.

We struggle and fight inside every day,

Trying to reveal the truth in a new way.

We stumble through shadows, chasing the light,

Wrestling with doubt in the dead of night.

Each thought a mirror, each pain a guide,

Each crack revealing what's buried inside.

The ego it whispers, “Stay safe, don't move,”

But the soul yearns fiercely its path to prove.

We rise, we fall, yet still we try,

To grasp the purpose hidden in why.

In friends we find the strength to see,

The chains that bind and how to be free.

Through love and unity, walls collapse,

As truth awakens between the gaps.

So if you're weary, don't lose your flame—

The battle within is not in vain.

Each step through sorrow, doubt, and fear,

Draws the Creator ever near.

A Prayer in Truth

In synagogue’s hush, where whispers take flight,

I call to the heavens with all of my might.

But oh, how I fumble, my words all askew,

My pride’s like a rooster, who struts and who crows too!

With sorrow I see it, my heart’s selfish beat,

It loves its own shadow, it craves its own seat.

I thought I was worthy, more pious, more grand,

Yet truth laughs at falsehood, and I’m but a man.

The pain of my lowliness stings like a thorn,

My flaws laid bare, in truth I’m reborn.

No wisdom I boast, no virtue to claim,

Just love for the One who can heal all my shame.

Oh, Creator of truth, hear this fool’s humble plea,

I’m farthest from You, yet I long to be free.

No finery here, just a soul worn and bare,

In truth I now call You—please show me You’re there!

With a chuckle I see it, my ego’s grand jest,

It thought it could bargain, be better than best.

But love pulls me closer, through pain’s bitter gate,

In truth’s simple mirror, I’m near to Your state.

🌿 “From the Bottom of My Foolish Heart”

I’m tired of my clever lies, Creator, see me bare,
This heart’s a crooked salesman with discount love to share.
I promised You mountains, I offered the sky,
But tripped on my ego and fell for my lie.

I’m broken and bankrupt, my credit is gone,
I spent all my merits on cocktails at dawn.
I tried to be holy—wore halos askew,
But laughter erupted, You saw it was true.

So here in the gutter of want and of sin,
I’m shouting for mercy to let Your light in.
No more negotiations, no cunning appeal,
Just grant me the courage to love what is real.

My will to receive is a cunning old fox,
He sold me for peanuts and ran with the box.
He laughs at my sermons, he naps through my prayers,
While my soul’s in the basement, tied up to the chairs.

Yet somewhere beneath all this circus and noise,
A small, trembling child remembers Your voice.
He weeps and he pleads with tears not so smart:
“Creator, please rescue the bottom of my heart.”

Give me the power to love and to give,
To live for Your joy—not just for my “live.”
Let me be silly in service to You,
I’ll dance like King David, I’ll trip on my shoe.

For sorrow is honest but joy is Your art,
You make even beggars sing songs from the heart.
So take all my failures, my laughter, my cries,
And build from these ruins a prayer that flies.

Prayer of the Heart

In the silence where thoughts dissolve,

My heart, a vessel, seeks to evolve.

Beyond the mind’s restless sway,

It cries for truth, for the sacred way.

Oh Creator, You who know my core,

My will to receive, I cling to no more.

Its weight, its pull, binds me to dust,

Yet my heart yearns for a will that’s just.

Not with words the mind may weave,

Nor logic’s chains that strive to deceive,

But with a fire, raw and deep,

My heart’s demand rises from its sleep.

Correct me, Lord, let my soul align,

With Your light, Your love, Your will divine.

To bestow, to give, to mirror Your grace,

To see Your truth in every face.

Strip the veils that cloud my sight,

Let my heart burn bold in Your holy light.

No thought can hold this fervent plea,

Only my heart’s cry sets my spirit free.

Oh Source of all, hear this prayer I send,

Not from my mind, but where my soul bends.

Transform my will, let it seek to bestow,

That I may dwell where Your mercies flow.

Trembling Strings of Faith

In the maze of life's despair, letters dry as bones,

A soul yearns for a spark, a voice to call its own.

Amidst the cloak of faith, seeking a divine door,

To transcend the tangible, to connect and explore.

Golden bells and pomegranates, a rhythm so profound,

The tremble of a violin, where joy and fear are bound.

In the search for holiness, a dance of light and shade,

The sound of silence echoes, where sacred truths are made.

With every note of longing, in a world of unseen strings,

The heart beats for the whisper of the One who sings.

For in the trembling moments, joy finds its place,

In the sacred symphony of love and grace.

The robe of understanding, beyond mere human sight,

In the trembling of creation, the word of God takes flight.

Oh, to see the door, in faith, and not through eyes alone,

To hear the silent song, and feel the sacred tone.

🌿 A Prayer for Correction 

Creator, You formed me a vessel designed,

To receive all Your goodness with purpose aligned.

But my nature is twisted, turned toward my own,

It clings to itself and calls ego its throne.

You made me a creature whose essence is need,

But I use this great hunger for selfish greed.

The gift of receiving, intended for You,

I have stolen for self, made Your purpose untrue.

I see that this gap between us is vast,

A barrier built by my will that holds fast.

Your Light cannot dwell where self-love is enthroned,

Where every intention is ego’s alone.

I study Your wisdom to learn what is real,

To expose all the truths that my ego would seal.

That Lo Lishma is my state in this land,

That I serve only self with my heart and my hand.

Yet the sages have taught me the path to ascend,

That Lo Lishma is the means to the true holy end.

That with effort and prayer, Your Light will descend,

Correcting intention that I cannot bend.

For alone I am powerless, lost in my scheme,

My motives corrupted, my hopes just a dream.

I see that my nature resists what is true,

And even in prayer I ask only for me and not You.

So I turn to You now with my failures confessed,

My ego exposed, my illusions addressed.

I plead for Your Light, for the Segula’s might,

To transform my darkness into bestowing Light.

Cleanse me of cravings that serve only self,

Redeem me from worship of egoic wealth.

Make me a vessel that lives to bestow,

A channel for blessings that endlessly flow.

Let my receiving exist just to give,

To bring You delight as long as I live.

Let intention be pure, seeking only Your joy,

Not sullied by ego’s corrupting ploy.

Unite me with friends in a circle of trust,

Where love overcomes all envy and lust.

Bind us together with one single aim,

To bring You contentment and glorify Your Name.

Help us remember this world is Your school,

Where ego is broken and self-love made fool.

Where study and prayer draw Your merciful Light,

That reforms our desires and sets them aright.

We have no other cure, no other way,

But the Light of correction that answers our pray.

So hear this true cry from the depth of the soul,

Refine our intention and make our hearts whole.

Creator, You know all the secrets within,

The root of my ego, the source of my sin.

Don’t leave me to perish in self-serving lies,

But lift me to dwell in bestowal that flies.

For I am Your creature, designed to receive,

Yet only in giving can I truly live.

Transform me completely from Lo Lishma’s claim,

To serve You in truth, Lishma, in Your Name.

🪨 “The Body's Question, the Soul's Answer”

The body asks, “What will I gain?”

Its hunger constant, sharp as pain.

It bargains even when I pray,

Demanding payment for words I say.

It says, “Your service must reward,

Or else what value is your Lord?”

I see the trap in every plea,

A chain that binds my soul to me.

But obstacles are gifts in guise,

They teach me truth beneath the lies.

Each question from the self I hear

Becomes the path to drawing near.

I hammer hard on hardened heart,

Resolved to break its grip apart.

Each blow a prayer that rends my pride,

Inviting Heaven's light inside.

I see the evil of my claim,

Insisting all must serve my name.

This clarity is grace bestowed,

To guide me on the narrow road.

For when I see my selfish will,

I gain the chance to make it still.

Transform its thirst to holy fire,

That seeks in giving to aspire.

The battle rages every day,

My body finds new words to say.

But I reply with stronger voice,

To serve the Creator is my choice.

No compromise, no hidden fee,

I yearn for true simplicity.

To work with no reward in view,

Except the joy of pleasing You.

Strike after strike, the rock must break,

Till ego’s chains begin to shake.

From splintered self new life can grow,

A vessel fit for Light to flow.

So let the questions come and rise,

I’ll meet them all with earnest eyes.

For every test, each fierce demand,

Is shaped by Your redeeming hand.