3 H's On A Texas Road

 3 H's On A Texas Road

To open one’s heart is a dangerous thing

It needs the Three H’s to give it a sting

Hitbatlute hits first, it cuts to the bone

Annulment of self, you stand alone

No crown, no opinion, no right to be smart

Just dust in the hands of a merciful art

Bend your neck low, let the ego depart

There’s no other gate to a truthful start

Then Hitkalelute comes crashing inside

Inclusion with friends, nowhere to hide

Their lack is your lack, their cry is your sin

A heart gets no rest when the many move in

You fall into them, not warm, not clean

Scraped by their mirrors, exposed and seen

But somewhere in that mutual pain

A new kind of strength begins to remain

Then Hitpahalute quietly appears

Enlivened hearts stitched together with tears

Not joy from reward, not fire from pride

But life that awakens when self has died

The heart starts to beat with a rhythm not mine

One pulse, one hunger, one shared design

No longer asking what’s in it for me

Just living inside what we’re meant to be

Three blows, one heart, one widening door

Annul, include, enliven—then soar

This is the work that the wise ones knew

The heart is rebuilt only passing through

Steel and Silence

 

Steel and Silence

I ride a Harley, wind in my face,

Long black road, no marked-out place.

The motor roars but the heart goes still,

Steel keeps moving when the soul won’t feel.

Some miles are smooth, some shake the bone,

Some rides you feel you’re riding alone.

The road didn’t break, the bike didn’t stall,

Just a quiet distance I can’t outrun at all.

The ego says, Something’s wrong with you,

Fix the feeling, change the view.

But Rav once said, That lack’s not yours,

It’s a crack in the bond, not a personal flaw.

I don’t pull over to polish the chrome,

Don’t tear down the bike, don’t call it home.

I carry the rattle, don’t curse the sound,

That noise belongs to the whole damn ground.

A slight disconnection, a whisper of cold,

Is not my failure, not truth being told.

It’s the ten tapping me on the shoulder,

Hold this piece — we’ll lift it together.

So I don’t ride louder, don’t twist the gas,

Don’t make a drama out of the past.

I aim the lack where the brothers stand,

Turn distance upward — that’s raising MAN.

No fix for the heart, no mood to chase,

Just give the burden a higher place.

Steel rolls on, the road stays wide,

The bike don’t pray — but the rider does inside.

And if the ride feels empty and bare,

No warmth, no rush, no signal flare,

That’s when the work is heavy and true,

When nothing feels good — and you still give it through.

No badge for this, no biker’s pride,

Just faith above reason, throttle steady, ride.

What breaks in me is not for me,

It’s fuel for the bond — that’s the work I see.

When the Work Begins

 When The Work Begins

A person turns the heart to unity

Not for reward, but for annulled purity

Before the aim can settle in place

The mind erupts, demanding its case

Thoughts strike hard, precise, and loud

Disguised as logic, sharp and proud

Doubt wears reason, fear wears truth

Urgency screams, stripping the proof

The heart pulls forward, simple and bare

The mind pulls sideways, filled with care

Each claims to guard the proper way

Each swears the other leads astray

This split is not a flaw or sin

It is where the work must now begin

For the will to receive shows its face

Only when bestowal takes its place

A person learns not to argue inside

Not to choose which voice should decide

The work is not to silence the fight

But to lift both hands toward the Light

Then comes a request without demand

No proof in mind, no strength in hand

Align the heart, align the thought

Not for self, for what we sought

Let the mind serve what the heart sees

Let the heart rise above what is

Not to escape, not to pretend

But to bind both ends to a single end

When heart and mind agree to ask

The split itself completes the task

For unity is born this way

Through resistance that learns to pray

From the Article These Candles Are Sacred

THESE CANDLES ARE SACRED

I light the flame

but I don’t touch

Hands tied back

heart clenched shut

These candles burn

not for my gain

I only look

I swallow pain

I want reward

I want to feel

But Hanukkah says

Stand still. Kneel.

These lights are holy

Not mine to use

No payment given

No borrowed juice

I don’t eat Light

I don’t get paid

I stare at Truth

until I fade

---

The Greeks in me

start clearing their throat

“Does this make sense?”

they take a vote

They want logic

proof and taste

They smash my walls

call faith a waste

They break my towers

brick by brick

Say “bow to reason”

call faith a trick

But towers rise

where reason dies

Above the mind

the heart replies

---

Faith above reason

is a wall, not a dream

It guards the tower

where greatness is seen

I shrink my mind

lower my head

That’s where the Light

gets clothed instead

The higher He gets

the lower I fall

I see my dirt

I see it all

The closer He comes

the worse I feel

I see my ego

raw and real

---

I wanted Purim

wine and cheer

Bodies saved

feast and beer

But Hanukkah whispers

“Not yet, son

Half the war

has just begun”

I parked the fight

Hanu-Koh

Not ‘cause it’s done

but strength can grow

This rest ain’t peace

It’s ammo stored

So I can face

the deeper war

---

My will to take

burns bitter black

Gevurot scream

“Don’t give it back”

Receiving hurts

when self is king

Distance tastes

like suffering

But when I take

to give Him joy

The bitterness

turns sweet, my boy

The same desire

same damn fire

Now aimed to love

not to acquire

---

I see my lowliness

like trash and ash

Why help me, Lord?

I’m cracked, I crash

If others knew

what I’ve been shown

They’d run this path

and leave me prone

Yet here You are

hand stretched wide

Welcoming

the criminal inside

---

The mountain grows

with every climb

Thoughts stack high

doubting time

The righteous drown

in rising hills

While wicked float

on paper thrills

But I’ve been lifted

from the bin

Trash was my diet

ego my skin

Now every doubt

every fall

Builds the wall

that guards it all

---

I won’t demand

to understand

I won’t wait

for mind’s command

I won’t say “Now

it makes sense to serve”

That path is theft

a crooked curve

I’ll work above

what I can see

Because that’s where

You come to me

---

So light the flame

and don’t consume

Stand in awe

inside the gloom

These candles teach

a brutal truth

Greatness comes

when faith is youth

And only prayer

keeps me alive

Above reason

is how I survive

Concealment in the Heart

There’s a difference, yeah, but it ain’t what it seems,

Between those who study and those chasing dreams.

Not smarter, not purer, not closer to Heaven,

Just handed a role — a position was given.

All of us move when the Creator decides,

Every thought, every step, every fall, every rise.

No one’s outside, no one’s ignored,

Each soul is operated by the same unified force.

Some are awakened, pulled into the room,

Not for reward — but for burden and doom.

Chosen like Rosh, not to rule or command,

But to pass what flows through a trembling hand.

Dissemination ain’t numbers, applause, or proof,

It laughs in the face of logical truth.

If reason could measure what Light is meant to do,

Faith would be useless — and Rav says it’s not true.

We speak, we write, we share, we stand,

Not knowing who hears or who understands.

The ego screams, “Is this even right?”

Faith answers softly, “Walk into the night.”

No feedback, no praise, no visible gain,

Just quiet work through resistance and pain.

That’s not failure — that’s the sign

You stepped outside reason and into the line.

So don’t judge the world, don’t measure the crowd,

We weren’t chosen to be seen or loud.

We were chosen to serve when the heart feels blind,

Letting the Creator work through mankind.

And when doubt says, “This makes no sense,”

That’s the exact place of true confidence.

Faith is the lamp when the road feels dim —

Dissemination is trusting Him, not you, not them.

Same Dust, One Saddle

🔥 POEM — “Same Dust, One Saddle”

Boots hit dirt before sunrise breaks,

Coffee black, no time for mistakes.

Ropes get tight, the gate flies wide,

You don’t tame the bull — you learn to ride.

Faith ain’t clean, it’s calloused hands,

Oil-field prayers and desert land.

We fall, we bleed, we climb again,

Same fire burns in every man.

בוץ על המגפיים, לב חשוף,

לא מחפשים נוח — מחפשים אמת לעוף.

נופלים וקמים, זה החוק הישן,

לב אחד שורד — עם אחד, אדם.

Bucking broncos, busted pride,

Learn real fast who’s real inside.

You don’t win by standing tall,

You win when you answer the call.

If you’re scared — say it!

If you’re broken — stay in!

If you fall — get up!

If you hear the call — saddle up!

Toprak aynı, yol aynı,

Kalp atışı — hiç fark saymaz.

Texas, Türkiye — tek nefes,

Aynı dua, aynı ses.

Same dust storms, different skies,

Same damn tears in grown men’s eyes.

We don’t run when pressure hits,

Steel gets strong where it resists.

मिट्टी वही, रास्ता वही,

दिल की आग सबमें सही।

गिरते हैं हम, फिर उठते हैं,

एक ही पुकार — सब सुनते हैं।

No difference!

No borders!

Same dust!

One order!

Ride together — or don’t ride at all!

Middle Line of Nothing

 “Middle Line or Nothing”

I walked the right, clean hands, bowed head,

Gave thanks for crumbs, called hunger “fed.”

I served with fear, I praised His name,

But never touched His living flame.

I walked the left, my eyes burned bright,

Truth like fire in dead of night.

I saw His plan, I knew His aim,

But wisdom naked turned to shame.

Right says, “Give—don’t ask to feel.”

Left says, “Take—this truth is real.”

Both were loud, both felt so true,

Both alone just split me in two.

The heart cracked open, bled the lie,

“Pick a side or surely die.”

But Heaven whispered, low and thin,

“I dwell where both are braided in.”

Not mercy alone, not truth by force,

Not holy deeds without the Source.

The King is crowned where lines agree,

Where love clothes light responsibly.

No glory shown in empty hands,

No throne revealed in broken plans.

His honor shines when hearts align,

Hochma dressed in Hassadim.

So I don’t run, I don’t divide,

I stand where opposites collide.

I hold the dark, I hold the flame,

And bless His Name through joy and pain.

This is the work — no borrowed light,

No silent right, no reckless sight.

The Torah lives where both entwine,

Middle Line — or nothing shines.

---

HEBREW 

קו ימין בלי אור — חסד בלי חיים

קו שמאל בלי לב — חכמה בלי רחמים

רק באמצע מתגלה המלך

רק כששניהם כאחד — נשלם התיקון

לא די לתת, לא די לראות

בלי לב מלובש — האור נשרף

התורה מחברת ימין ושמאל

ושם כבוד הבורא נחשף

---

SPANISH 

Derecha sin verdad se vuelve fría,

Izquierda sin amor quema y vacía.

No hay gloria en partes rotas del querer,

Solo en el centro nace el Rey.

Sabiduría vestida de piedad,

Luz con cuidado, fuerza con bondad.

Ahí se revela Su voluntad,

En línea media — verdad total.

---

RUSSIAN 

Без милосердия мудрость — яд,

Без истины добро — лишь взгляд.

Он раскрыт не в крайних словах,

А там, где оба живут в сердцах.

Средняя линия — не компромисс,

А свет, что выдержал вес небес.

Там слава Творца становится явной,

Где свет и любовь соединены правильно.

---

CLOSING 

Brothers, we stand — not right, not left,

But where the heart is stripped of self.

No borrowed fire, no holy mask,

Just one desire — to crown Him fast.

Not me, not you — one single plea,

That He be seen through unity.

This is the path the sages knew,

Middle Line — made real in you.

Understanding None (One Man, One Heart). from the Zohar

Understanding None (One Man, One Heart)

We hear the words “understanding none,”

The mind goes dark, the heart gets stunned.

The Zohar laughs at what I know,

And strips me naked, soft and slow.

“Not by the mind, not by the brain,”

Truth only enters through the pain.

What reason builds, the Light must break,

For unity is not a thought to take.

Showing us how to become one,

Not by winning—by being undone.

One man, one heart, one soul made clear,

Only when self disappears.

I swear I’m far, I swear I’m late,

But distance is a lie I state.

“Near or far is all the same,”

When all events come from His Name.

The Zohar says, “Look not above,”

The ladder starts in friend-to-love.

The Creator hides between our cracks,

In every slight, in every lack.

I curse the friend, then beg for Light,

Hate erupts right in the fight.

And there He stands—silent, exact,

Writing mercy through my act.

“Who sees division sees concealment,”

Every judgment signs my sentence.

The world is shattered by my sight,

Unity waits behind the fight.

No prayer is clean, no heart is pure,

That’s why the method must endure.

He breaks me daily, hand in glove,

So I’ll choose faith—above my love.

I never knew how close, how near,

Till ego screamed and He was clear.

The Zohar burns, but not to harm—

It melts the self into the One.

So take my mind, I’ll keep the Ten,

Take my pride—just let me bend.

From “understanding none” I rise,

One heart revealed behind closed eyes.

The Rivers of Binah

Before the rivers ever dared to run,

Malchut stood naked, nowhere to run.

Every want screamed, “Fill me now,”

But nothing answered — not then, not how.

She reached for Light with filthy hands,

Took what she could, broke every command.

Called it wisdom, called it fate,

But every grab only deepened the hate.

Pleasure burned quick, then left a scar,

Another empty night, another bar.

Prayers turned hollow, lips learned lies,

Asking for heaven with wolfish eyes.

Then came the stop — the brutal freeze,

“No more receiving for self,” she decrees.

A blade to the heart, a wall to the soul,

Restriction hit hard — took total control.

No light, no warmth, no holy sound,

Just silence thick, crushing, profound.

The ego howled, kicked, cursed the night,

“Better to die than give up this fight.”

That’s when the crying finally broke,

Not for reward, not for a smoke.

A prayer rose raw, stripped of disguise,

“Teach me to give — or let me die.”

Only then did the rivers begin,

Not rushing in — but flowing within.

Binah leaned down, gentle but firm,

Showing Malchut a different term.

Not “take and live,” but “live to give,”

Not “prove you’re right,” but “let others live.”

Hassadim wrapped the shattered need,

Teaching the vessel how to receive.

Now rivers are flowing — measured, clean,

Binah is showing what mercy means.

Malchut receives just what she can send,

Light passes through her — not to her end.

And that’s the miracle, quiet and true:

Heaven descends when the self says “through.”

The river doesn’t drown the land,

It makes Malchut like Binah — hand in hand.

Living In a Dream

We work and live inside a dream,

Nothing here is what it seems.

Thoughts walk in and call me “me,”

Like I signed them silently.

Love shows up with blood on hands,

Hate pretends it understands.

Joy arrives then slips away,

Leaves a bill I still must pay.

I wake up tired, go to work,

Smile clean, but doubt still lurks.

Bills, regrets, old words replayed,

Every move already staged.

I fight my thoughts like they’re my own,

Defend a self I’ve never known.

Win a round, then lose the war,

Same damn thoughts knock at the door.

Then something cracks — not loud, not bright,

Just a whisper in the night:

“These thoughts aren’t yours — they pass through you,

Like weather does, like winds that move.”

The pain is real, the tears are true,

But even those are given too.

The dream don’t break when you see this part —

You wake inside it, heart to heart.

I don’t escape, I don’t run free,

I learn who’s running through me.

And in that truth — so stripped, so bare —

I find a Hand that’s always there.

Strong In my Ego Weak in My Hands

“Strong in My Ego, Weak in My Hands”

I said I wanted You,

but I wanted me more.

Said “all for Heaven,”

counted receipts on the floor.

I talked about love,

while stepping on friends,

Called it “discernment,”

hid knives in the ends.

I read all the books,

quoted line after line,

But my heart stayed closed,

said “later,” not “mine.”

I wanted bestowal

as an upgrade, a perk,

A ribbon on ego,

not death to my work.

Then You broke my legs

right under my pride,

Let Pharaoh laugh

while I swallowed the lie.

I pushed.

I prayed.

I worked till I bled.

And somehow I sank

even deeper instead.

Every good deed

reeked of reward,

Every prayer

had me at the core.

Friends looked like mirrors

I couldn’t stand,

Each one exposing

the rot in my hand.

That’s when I learned

what “weak” really means—

Not tired muscles,

but shattered routines.

Weak is when love

is no longer a choice,

When without You

there is no inner voice.

Weak is when life

feels colder than death,

When Kedusha won’t enter

the lungs of your breath.

And strong—

Strong was my ego,

my logic, my plan,

Strong was my mouth

saying “I understand.”

So You did the miracle

no hero survives:

You handed my strength

to the weak in my life.

You let the few cries

break the many excuses,

Let purity win

where knowledge abuses.

You showed me my sin

with surgical care,

Not to crush me—

to prove You were there.

Now I don’t ask for luxury,

titles, or light—

Just don’t let me live

without You in sight.

If bestowal doesn’t come

I am already dead,

So take this heart,

break it—

and make it instead.

No Spies IN The Market

NO SPIES IN THE MARKET

I walk out whole from a private gate,

One King inside—no room for debate.

But step in the market, the noise comes fast,

Spies clock my future, audit my past.

They whisper, “What’s in it? Why give it away?”

They tally my loss at the end of the day.

They quote me truth but poison the aim,

Dress ego in logic, call fear by my name.

They spy on the heart like merchants of war,

Measure the Light like it’s bought in a store.

“Where’s the feeling? The proof? The sign?”

They sell me delay and call it divine.

Hanukkah comes with a jar cracked thin,

No taste, no thrill, no guaranteed win.

Just oil enough for a stubborn stand,

Faith above reason—match in my hand.

I light it outside where the market roars,

Where ego trades futures and locks the doors.

Not to feel holy, smart, or correct—

But to burn one thought that demands respect.

The spy screams loud, “This makes no sense!”

I don’t argue back—I don’t mount defense.

I light and I act without asking why,

And the spy goes hungry—no deal to buy.

The market stays loud, the legs still shake,

Desire still wants what it thinks I should take.

But one small flame with no demand to win

Turns spies into silence—no place to sit in.

No spies in the Light, no wage to claim,

No Sitra Achra where love won’t bargain its name.

Just friends in the dark, oil running low,

And a flame that says, “Bestow—then go.”

The Split That Prays

The Split That Prays

by William S. Becker

As the lesson starts, it begins,

My heart splits clean into two within.

One side says, Focus—do not stray,

The other whispers, Today’s the day.

The prayer will rise, the Creator hears,

My chest collapses into tears.

Tears for the will that only takes,

For every spark the ego breaks.

One side counts comfort, time, and gain,

Coffee, body, ease, and pain.

That’s the will to receive, loud and wise,

Selling lies that dress as truth in disguise.

The other side is small and thin,

A silent knock from deep within.

No logic there, no proof, no chart,

Just hunger—that’s the point in heart.

The will attacks when prayer is near,

Floods the mind with doubt and fear.

Why these friends? Why this path?

Look at your past—look at the math.

The heart can’t hold both at once,

It breaks beneath competing wants.

But in the break a cry is made,

Not to receive—but to be saved.

No strength to win. No way alone.

Just a plea to be overthrown.

And that small cry, broken and true,

Cuts out a space for Light to move through.

The will still stands, armed and fed,

But the point is no longer dead.

Between them both, a line appears—

Not perfection—just choice through tears.

So lesson by lesson, day by day,

I fall, I beg, I’m shown the way.

Not by crushing the will to receive,

But choosing the point I believe.

So I don’t curse the split inside,

Where ego and the spark collide.

I thank the break, the tears, the wrong—

They push my heart where I belong.

Not clean. Not whole.

But turned above—

Held by the Ten,

Wrapped in Love.

The Shade I Chose

“THE SHADE I CHOSE”

I sat in the shadow and wanted to run,

No warmth on my skin, no sight of the sun.

Every step felt heavy, prayers tasted like sand,

Still You placed this darkness right into my hands.

I cursed the concealment, the silence, the strain,

Thought distance meant failure, thought numbness meant pain.

Then a crack in the heart let the truth push through—

These shadows are tools You’re working me through.

Not punishment, not exile, not some cruel test,

But room for bestowal when reason says “rest.”

You hid Your face so I’d stop working for me,

So I’d choose You with nothing—no taste, no fee.

I don’t ask for the shade to hurry and flee,

I see now the work is exactly this key.

To serve while You’re hidden, to give while I’m blind,

To trust that Your pleasure is built in this grind.

No shame in the darkness, no insult in lack,

If You want my heart here, then I won’t step back.

Sweet fruit grows deeper where the light can’t be seen,

I sit in Your shadow and crown You as King.

Lower Than The Dust

“LOWER THAN THE DUST”

I signed my name in silence with a heart that couldn’t see,

No lights, no taste, no warmth—just chains wrapped around me.

I told the King, “I’m Yours,” with nothing felt inside,

No proof, no thrill, no vision—just ego crucified.

No paycheck from the heavens, no comfort in the bones,

Just dragging dead desire through unanswered phones.

Still I bowed without conditions, didn’t barter, didn’t plead,

If this is what You want from me—then grind me down indeed.

I work like I’m rewarded though I feel no spark,

I sing like I’ve got daylight while I’m choking in the dark.

I move like I have faith while my hands are full of doubt,

That’s surrender—no escape hatch, no way out.

Put me in the dirt, Lord, face down in the clay,

Lower than the questions that keep screaming every day.

If earth’s the lowest station, then here I choose to stand,

’Cause nothing can be taken from a fully broken man.

No falling from a place where I already gave it all,

No pride left to defend me when the structures fall.

A generation rises, another one decays,

But the earth just keeps on holding all our blood and prayers.

So plant me in the dust where sons and daughters grow,

From unconditional service seeds of fire will show.

I don’t serve for the feeling, the sweetness, or the gain—

I serve because You’re King, even buried in the pain.

“I Rise Because I Die in You”

 I rise because I die in you, the friends who break my pride,

The ones who tear my walls apart till nothing’s left to hide.

For the death of self is freedom when the heart is split in two,

And the ashes of my ego feed the love that carries you.

I rise because I die in you, in the fire that you ignite,

Where the soul is forged in brotherhood and tempered by the Light.

For the man I was is buried in the grave of who I knew—

But the man I am is living in the life I share with you.

I rise because I die in you, in the rhythm of the roar,

In the beat of ten hearts pounding like a resurrected war.

In the boogie of surrender where the broken become new—

For the King Himself comes rising when I die inside of you.

So let the song be thunder, let the joy come tearing through—

For a man is born eternal when he dies in love with you.

“Love Is the Only Road Home”

 Love is the only road home when the heart’s too tired to fight,

When the ego’s last resistance fades beneath the dawning Light.

For the miles I ran in darkness couldn’t hide me from the truth—

That the path I feared the most was the one that led to You.

Love is the only road home when the Ten becomes my guide,

When their prayers become the compass cutting through my foolish pride.

For repentance ain’t a burden — it’s the joy of being known,

And the friends who never left me pave the way that leads me home.

Love is the only road home when the King reveals His face,

When the fire of His mercy melts the wounds I tried to chase.

Every tear becomes a diamond, every cry becomes a tone,

Singing loud across creation: “Love is still the only home.”

So let my feet keep dancing as the boogie shakes my bones—

For the heart that learns to love has finally found its road back home.

“He Who Knows the Secrets Testifies”

 He who knows the secrets testifies when the heart can’t lie no more,

When the soul stands stripped and trembling on repentance’s burning floor.

For the light that hits a broken man ain’t gentle, weak, or shy—

It’s a thunderbolt of mercy that tears the darkness from the sky.

He who knows the secrets testifies that the fall has reached its end,

That the King has carved the vessel through the torment of a friend.

And the moment that He seals you with the truth your ego fears,

You rise a living furnace fed by all your shattered years.

He who knows the secrets testifies in a blaze that melts your past,

In a roar that shakes creation till your heart beats clean at last.

For repentance isn’t silence — it’s the heavens split with cries,

When the Creator shouts His verdict… and the blinded soul now sees.

So let the house come falling, let the old world vaporize—

For the King Himself bears witness when the broken man will rise.