⚔️ “The Field Within” — A Kabbalistic Mahābhārata

 

A war was born where silence screams,

Inside the soul that splits its dreams.

The right hand prays, the left hand steals,

The heart forgets what the spirit feels.

The Kauravas rise — a hundred lies,

Each one born where the ego cries.

They promise gold, they promise fame,

But every crown burns with shame.

The Pandavas stand — the will to bestow,

Five senses cleansed by the light they know.

They tremble still, for truth cuts deep,

The self must die before souls can reap.

Arjuna weeps, his bow hangs low,

“How can I strike the ones I know?”

Krishna smiles — the secret revealed,

“You never kill — you only yield.”

“For bodies fall, but the soul can’t fade,

It was by love that all was made.

Fight not for gain, nor fear the loss,

Your sword is faith, your shield is cross.”

“Act without fruit, let go of the claim,

See Me in all, and all the same.

When giver and gift no longer part,

The war will end inside your heart.”

The chariot rolled on sand and flame,

Each wheel carved out the Holy Name.

Dharma and Torah met as one,

Under the heat of the inner sun.

For Baal HaSulam would softly say,

“Love your friend — it’s the only way.”

And Krishna whispered through the din,

“The field you fight is the field within.”

Each slain desire became a prayer,

Each fallen foe — a friend laid bare.

The ego bled, but the soul stood tall,

In losing self, he gained it all.

Then Krishna vanished — or did He stay?

For light remained though form gave way.

Arjuna saw — no death, no sin,

Just endless love where war had been.

“The Low Will See”

They mock and sneer as I walk by,

Their words cut deep, yet I don’t cry.

For in the dust where I am thrown,

The King of Kings makes me His own.

He lifts not those who boast and shine,

But souls that break to match His line.

The proud look down and lose their sight,

The low look up and see the Light.

My crown is crushed beneath their feet,

My name erased—His will complete.

For when I die to self and fame,

The Lord Himself will call my name.

Let them despise, reject, and scorn,

From their contempt, new life is born.

The Lord is high—He hides from pride,

But dwells within the ones denied.

So strip me bare, remove my face,

Until I’m clothed in His embrace.

The high stand far, the low will see—

In dust and shame, He dwells in me.

“Seekers of the Face”

When I first sought You, I was blind in need,

Begging for crumbs from my own greed.

I called it love — it was hunger in disguise,

A thief praying softly beneath holy skies.

I wept, “Reveal Yourself! Let me see!”

But my plea was still “Give to me.”

The heavens were silent — I cursed the air,

Not knowing You heard, yet waited — there.

You whispered, “Child, your cries are true,

But they still reek of wanting for you.

I’ll lend you My ear, but not yet My face,

Till your heart learns to ask for My grace.”

So You broke me — tore my prayer apart,

Split my tongue from my selfish heart.

Judgment burned; mercy wept within,

Till both were sweetened, and light broke in.

Now I seek not Your gifts, but Your will —

To fill what You fill, to be still as You’re still.

I don’t want joy — I want to give You mine,

To mirror Your face, and erase the line.

So when You seek Your seekers, find me there,

Among the fools who learned to care.

For I was cursed — till I learned to bless,

Till my cry became love, and my lack turned to Yes.

Wine That Burns the Fool

I sipped the cup of heaven’s light,

And thought, “I’ve conquered endless night!”

The wine sang loud — “You are the king!”

And pride began its deadly sting.

I stumbled drunk on holy flame,

And whispered prayers that fed my name,

While truth stood silent at the gate,

And let me drown in self-made fate.

For this is wine that blinds the soul,

It crowns the half, but kills the whole.

It makes you think you’ve reached the peak,

While faith grows faint and will grows weak.

Oh, how I begged for more delight,

Till darkness stripped away my sight,

And in that void, the sober pain—

I learned what “Torah” means again.

It isn’t joy that fills the glass,

But tears that help the poison pass.

And when the heart to dust is torn,

The real wine flows — the soul reborn.

So drink, my friend, but drink with fear,

Let love be clear, and self disappear.

For only he who’s crushed and true,

Can taste the Light the drunk once knew.

Closing Prayer of the Congress

Creator of all, we lift our eyes,

Grateful for love that never dies.

Through lessons deep our hearts did grow,

Above all reason Your light did flow.

We annulled ourselves, we learned to bend,

To feel the friend, no start, no end.

We joined as one, inclusion true,

A vessel formed, prepared for You.

With zeal and fire, enthusiasm bright,

We rose together into Your light.

Our hearts were opened, flowing free,

A river of love, eternity’s sea.

Now as this congress comes to a close,

A fragrance of unity forever grows.

One prayer ascends, so pure, so strong,

A chorus of souls, one endless song.

Bind us, Beloved, forever in You,

Each friend a mirror, each heart made new.

May joy keep burning, may love never part,

For You dwell forever inside our heart.

---

the first 4 lessons of congress

Lesson one struck fire in our soul,

The “what” was revealed, the higher goal.

Hitbatlut whispered, “Annul and bend,

Lose yourself so the Light can descend.”

Lesson two came rushing in,

The “when” was shown, the time to begin.

Hitkalelut shone, inclusion so sweet,

All hearts as one, where the heavens meet.

Lesson three brought vision bright,

The “where” appeared in radiant light.

Not in myself, but the friend I find,

The vessel of love, one heart, one mind.

Lesson four rose with trembling reason,

A prayer beyond, in this holy season.

Hitpahalut burned, enthusiasm’s flame,

The “who” and “how” no longer the same.

Now four lessons carved in one beating heart,

Each H a ladder, each step a part.

Annulment, inclusion, and zeal we raise,

Together ascending in love and in praise.

Hand in hand, our souls combine,

One prayer, one voice, one heart, one line.

The Creator smiles as the walls fall apart,

And eternity blossoms inside our heart.

When the sky falls, leaving us in the dark,

Do we remember where we parked?

As the showers begin, like Binah’s flow,

What is it we need to know?

What is the purpose of life

When it’s filled with so much strife?

It’s to bind our hearts, to give and to share,

To rise above self and learn how to care.

To turn every shadow into a spark,

To build a beacon within the dark.

To feel the Creator in friend and foe,

To drink from His river and let it flow.

For the night may descend, but love is our key—

Uniting as one is our true destiny.

Waste of Granary and Winery

We stumble in fields where the shadows grow tall,

The granary’s empty, the heart feels so small.

A stranger inside, with no light to defend,

The winery whispers, “This road has no end.”

The waste piles high—our failures, our shame,

We curse at the heavens, yet it’s all the same.

The ego will mock, “You are nothing but dust,”

It drags us through filth, through desire and lust.

But hear me, my brothers, the waste is the key,

The trash of the journey builds Sukkah for thee.

What looks like rejection, like rot, like decay,

Becomes Clouds of Glory when we choose to stay.

Above reason we walk, though the night is severe,

We build from the garbage the roof of our year.

The Creator takes waste and He fashions it whole,

Till bestowal’s not secret but etched in the soul.

So don’t fear the failure, the hunger, the fight,

They’re bricks of the dwelling that shine in His light.

From ashes to dwelling, from broken to true,

The waste is the ladder He’s giving to you.

poem from shamati 96

Beneath the cloud where reason dies,

The heart is stripped of all its ties.

No knowledge left, no ground, no gain,

Just faith to walk through night and pain.

The waste of fields, the wine turned sour,

The soul stands naked, hour by hour.

No greatness shines, no guiding flame,

Yet whispers still, “Exalt My Name.”

O thief of Light, beware the snare,

Who grasps for proof finds only despair.

The ear once pierced must learn anew,

“Steal not My fire—it is not for you.”

So low, so lost, yet joy is born,

From faith that rises, tattered, torn.

A servant true, through storm and fall,

Who owns nothing—yet owns it all.

In Sukkah’s shade we learn to stay,

A guest of God along the way.

Temporary walls, yet hearts made strong,

By faith alone we sing our song.

Prayer of "There Is None Else Besides Him"

Prayer of “There Is None Else Besides Him”

Creator, when shadows rise and faith seems dim,

We whisper together: “It’s all from Him.”

No friend, no foe, no force, no flame,

But only One, His holy Name.

When bitterness strikes or joy is near,

We know it’s You who brought us here.

Both night and day, both loss and gain,

Are gifts from You, not random pain.

If hatred stings or love appears,

It’s You who guides us through the years.

Darkness, light, both dance Your whim—

We see at last: There’s none but Him.

No hand can harm, no trap can bind,

Except what You in love designed.

Each fall, each rise, each tear, each hymn,

Declares the truth: There’s none but Him.

So bind us now as one true heart,

That nevermore from You we part.

Our prayer ascends, our song, our limb:

Forever—There is none but Him.

---

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.

 Poem for the Ten

I was born weak, my vessel so small,

No wisdom, no craving, no strength at all.

Alone I would fall, my Torah be dust,

But in you, my friends, I place all my trust.

Through your fire I’m lifted, your yearning my guide,

Your love is the shelter where I can abide.

Not wicked or righteous by nature’s decree—

But righteous through you, for you carry me.

 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.”

 Rosh Hashanah Cry

The shofar breaks the silent night,

It calls us back to love, to Light.

The world kli trembles, torn apart,

Yet hope still burns within the heart.

The ego shouts, “It’s mine, not yours!”

But faith above reason reopens the doors.

Together as one, we rise and we pray,

That love will be written and never decay.

Creator, bind us, soul to soul,

Repair the vessel, make it whole.

A new year dawns, the heavens sing,

Inscribe us in love beneath Your wing.

 Rosh Hashanah Cry of the Ten

The shofar breaks silence, it pierces the air,

A cry from our hearts that we all must bear.

Israel rises, one voice, one song,

To crown our Creator, to Whom we belong.

We tremble and yearn, for the year now renewed,

Each prayer is a vessel, each tear is imbued.

Not for ourselves, but the whole world to see,

That “The Lord is our God” for eternity.

Our sins we confess, our pride we let fall,

The King takes His throne in the hearts of us all.

The judgment is heavy, yet mercy shines through,

For He seeks our return, to make us anew.

So, friends, my beloved, my brothers, my kin,

Let’s rise above reason, let faith flood within.

May our Ten be the spark that ignites every soul,

Till Israel glorifies Him, and the world is made whole.

 The year begins,

the mask thins,

and the heart hears a call in the bone.

The serpent grins,

counting wins,

“Keep it mine, keep it safe, keep it alone.”

But we’ve seen that trick,

it burns us quick,

so we gather the shards we can find.

We cut the slick,

ego’s pick,

and choose the King above the mind.

I am my Beloved—

that’s the shove-ed—

annul my will before His own.

Then love is covenanted,

fear is woven,

and Malchut rises to the throne.

Write us to life,

cut off the knife

of tail-chasing questions—“Who? What?”

A lion’s tail,

faith above veil,

we follow Hesed through the clot.

Shofar breath,

sweetens death,

judgment turns to mercy’s tone.

Black and white,

we sign the light,

good writing carved in living stone.

Empty space,

we lift in grace,

Romemut fills the hollowed cup.

Pomegranate case,

seeded place,

every lack says, “Friend, rise up.”

Not one by one—

that’s never done—

we bind as one society.

Shoulder to shoulder,

warmer, bolder,

we cancel exile’s piety.

Crown Him now,

teach me how—

let Your glory not lie in dust.

Make our vow,

make us bow,

turn all receiving into trust.

 The year begins, the ego cries,

“Keep it mine, believe the lies.”

But we choose the crown, the King above,

Harsh to the self, yet filled with love.

Shofar sound, it cuts the night,

Turns the judgment into light.

Empty hearts, like seeds we bring,

Pomegranate full—faith above, we cling.

Not alone, but hand in hand,

One society takes its stand.

Brutal truth, the vow we make—

Unconditional love for heaven’s sake.

1. Awakening – The Point in the Heart

I wander through life with hollow eyes,

Drunk on illusions, feeding on lies.

But a thorn in my chest will not let me sleep,

A hunger eternal, a yearning so deep.

I thought it was madness, I thought it was pain,

But it whispered of truth I could not contain.

“Seek Me in love, not in gold or in lust,

Build in the Ten, in connection and trust.”

---

2. Despair – Revelation of Evil

I tried to rise, but the ego screamed,

It shattered my hope, devoured my dream.

Every prayer mocked, every deed cursed,

The will to receive showed its teeth at its worst.

I saw my reflection, a beast in the glass,

Laughing at virtue, spitting at class.

And I cried, “Creator, why was I made?

To drown in the filth of the ego’s blade?”

---

3. First Light – Faith Above Reason

In the pit of despair, a spark appeared,

Silent and small, yet sharp and seared.

Not knowledge, not proof, not reason’s chain,

But a whisper of love that broke my pain.

“I am with you,” the silence said,

“Not in your mind, but in what you shed.

Give one drop of love, rise above strife,

That drop is eternal—it’s true, it’s life.”

---

4. Connection – The Ten as the Vessel

I fell to the friends, my brothers, my shield,

Their love was the ground where the Light was revealed.

I annulled my pride, I swallowed my hate,

For in them I touched the eternal state.

Each heart was a flame, together they roared,

A field of mercy, the dwelling of Lord.

In their embrace my soul could breathe,

The death of self was the life I received.

---

5. Faith and Love – The First Degree

Through the brutal fight, through the endless cost,

I found the one thing that is never lost.

Not power, not wealth, not a fleeting dream,

But eternal love, the Creator’s gleam.

So I give and I burn, I rise and I fall,

But the drop of bestowal outlives it all.

And though I am nothing, my soul can sing—

The first degree is everything.

The First Degree

I choke on the chains of my own desire,

Hands burned bloody from chasing the fire.

Every joy fades, every dream dies,

My heart’s a graveyard of broken lies.

I scream to the void—nothing replies,

Till shame cuts deep and opens my eyes.

I see the friends, I see the flame,

A force of love I cannot name.

The ego claws, it will not let go,

It curses the path, it hates to bestow.

But in the rubble, a whisper is heard—

Not in my voice, but in His word.

“Rise above reason, trust what you feel,

The drop of love you give is real.

It will not be lost, it cannot decay,

It’s eternal Light in a fleeting day.”

So I bow to the friends, my fortress, my guide,

Their hearts are the vessel where I abide.

Through brutal fire, through faith I’m remade,

Unconditional love is the first step laid.