Monday, January 5, 2026

Fear That Gives Birth To Joy

“Fear That Gives Birth to Joy”

I thought fear was shadows, chains, and cold,
A trembling heart afraid to step out bold.
I thought joy was laughter, light, and song,
Never knew the two could walk along.

I feared the pain, the loss, the shame,
I feared being called by Heaven’s name.
But deeper still, a quieter cry—
What if I take… and sever “why”?

Not fear of blows, not fear of fire,
But fear my hands betray desire.
That I receive just for my sake,
And split the bond I ache to make.

The Light stands still, it never flees,
No change above—only in me.
The screen is thin, the heart is small,
Yet still He waits… through every fall.

The earth is full of glory bright,
Yet I walk blind in borrowed sight.
Faith above reason, dry and tight,
Until the fear guards truth at night.

Not fear of lack, not fear of loss,
But fear of stepping off the cross—
Of bestowal, love, restraint,
Where ego screams and faith feels faint.

And there—right there—the miracle starts,
Fear builds vessels out of shards.
From trembling hands, a place is made,
Where shame dissolves, and joy can stay.

No bread of shame, no stolen flame,
Only love returned the same.
And joy arrives, not loud, not fast—
But deep enough… to last.

The War In The Heart


The War In The Heart
We live in the moment, but exist in our thoughts
We engage in the war, with many battles fought
Never realizing the battles in the heart
Is where every true victory starts

We blame the world, the noise, the pain
The bills, the phones, the loss, the rain
But the real fight hides deep inside
Where ego rules and truth must hide

I wake up early, coffee in hand
Smile on my face, barely can stand
I join the lesson, camera on
While inside me the war goes on

I want to love, I want to give
But I also want what helps me live
Two voices pulling, night and day
One says “take,” the other “pray”

The heart is a field where armies meet
Desire and faith, retreat and repeat
And every friend is a mirror I see
Showing the war that lives in me

When I fall, the Ten lifts me up
When I’m empty, they fill my cup
Not with answers, not with blame
But shared effort, loss, and flame

So I don’t run from the inner fight
I bring it to friends, into the light
Because the war was never “out there,” my friend
It’s the heart we correct—together—till the end

Four Phases Before Sundaown

Verse 1 – Keter (Morning / Awakening)

I wake up stirred by a whisper I can’t name
Coffee still brewing, heart already in flame
Didn’t ask for this pull, didn’t plan this call
Something inside says, “Get up — that’s all”

The light comes first, no question, no why
Just a tap on the soul as the day goes by
No merit, no effort, no crown on my head
Just breath in my chest and a path ahead


Verse 2 – Chokhmah (Early Day / Inspiration)

I feel it rush in, I’m alive and I’m strong
Everything’s clear, nothing feels wrong
The lesson hits hard, the friends feel close
I swear to myself, “This time I’ll coast”

I want it all, every spark, every taste
Fill me up fast, don’t let it go to waste
But the more I receive, the less I can see
This light ain’t mine — it’s carrying me


Verse 3 – Binah (Midday / Resistance)

Then comes the weight, like a hand on my chest
Suddenly stopping, suddenly rest
I don’t wanna take, I don’t wanna lie
If He’s the Giver — then who am I?

I pull back hard, build walls in my mind
Trying to resemble, trying to align
Feels like retreat, feels cold and thin
But this is restraint learning how to begin


Chorus – The Ten (Anchor)

It ain’t my strength, it ain’t my plan
I fall apart till I reach for the Ten
When the light burns hot or the day goes dim
I don’t walk alone — I walk with them

From morning fire to midnight cry
We hold the line when the ego lies
If I can’t stand, they lend me sight
The Ten turns darkness into light


Verse 4 – Zeir Anpin (Afternoon / Choice)

Now I move dry, no song in my feet
Still showin’ up, still takin’ a seat
No sweet reward, no holy thrill
Just doin’ the work against my will

I think of the friends, not how I feel
That thought alone makes something real
This ain’t desire, this ain’t grace
This is direction holdin’ its place


Verse 5 – Malchut (Evening / Ego Exposed)

By sundown hits, the truth stands tall
I want it all — control, light, all
Envy and pride come out to play
Every ugly thought earned its say

I see who I am when the shine is gone
Every excuse I’ve been leanin’ on
No mask survives the end of the day
Just a broken want that learned how to pray


Final Chorus – Prayer

It ain’t fix me, save me, make me right
It’s bind our hearts through this night
Take all this want I can’t defend
And turn it into love for the Ten

From Keter’s call to Malchut’s plea
You wrote this whole damn day in me
If I fall apart, then so be it then
Break me open — connect us — Amen

Learning To Love (With The Ten)


Learning to Love (With The Ten)

I've traveled the world, and fought with might
I've sailed the seas, searching for light
But through my journeys, filled with plight
Learning to love is what fills my sight

Joining the Ten of courageous men
Who fight to the last of what’s within
Each battle a chance to finally see
The evil nature inside of me

I thought the war was out there to win
With fists, with pride, with borrowed sin
But every road I tried to outrun
Led back to the war I hadn’t begun

The enemy spoke with my own voice
Dressed every demand up as “choice”
He quoted truth to justify theft
And called it faith when nothing was left

In the Ten I broke, in the Ten I fell
Every friend a mirror of hell
Not hell of fire, but self-concern
Where every desire just wants return

Yet there—right there—in the shared despair
A quiet force filled the air
Not power, not pride, not being right
Just hearts agreeing to aim at Light

We lost ourselves, and something grew
A strength no victory ever knew
Not one above, not one below
Just learning how to bestow

Now every fall is a holy sign
Another place to draw the line
Not against the world, the flesh, the sea—
But the rule of self inside of me

I don’t ask to win, I ask to serve
To love where my nature has nerve
If this is the war till my final breath,
Then let it end in love—not death.

Responsibility For The Ten

Responsibility For The Ten

We wake and shower and dress
We say our prayers before looking at the mess
We look at the messages from the ten
And wake up again… and begin

Bills on the table, phone in the hand
Another long day we didn’t plan
The ego screams, “Just take care of you”
But the heart remembers what it’s here to do

The mind wants quiet, comfort, escape
The path wants effort, connection, and faith
I want to run, disappear, pretend
But my soul is tied to the friends

When one is heavy, we all feel the weight
When one is late, we all learn to wait
No one escapes this invisible thread
We rise or we fall by the words that are said

It’s not about strength, wisdom, or skill
It’s showing up when you don’t have the will
A message, a prayer, a simple “I’m here”
Can pull a friend out of darkness and fear

The Creator hides in the space between
My broken heart and the ten unseen
I don’t fix them, I don’t know how
I just choose them—again—right now

Every problem that lands in my day
Is an invitation to relate
Not “Why me?” and not “Make it stop”
But “How do I carry the ten to the top?”

I fall, I forget, I drift, I complain
Then remember—this pain isn’t vain
It sharpens the need, exposes the lie
That I was ever meant to try alone and survive

Responsibility isn’t control or command
It’s holding a friend with an open hand
I cancel a little, I listen some more
And suddenly the heart finds a door

This is the work—no halo, no fame
Just loving the ten through joy and shame
And when I fail, which I surely will
I come back again… because that’s the deal

“Seventy Names, One King”

Title: “Seventy Names, One King”

I didn’t come holy, I came in pieces,
Seventy hungers with crooked leases.
Each one screaming, “I matter first,”
Each one dressed as a blessing or curse.

Chesed gives so it can be seen,
Gevurah cuts like a judgment machine.
Tiferet cries, “Why me again?”
Netzach must win, even over friends.

Hod bows low but keeps the score,
Yesod binds tight just to need you more.
Malchut sits heavy, empty, and loud,
Says, “Fill me now,” with its head unbowed.

I tried to crush them, starve them, deny,
But the ego don’t die — it just learns to lie.
So the work got honest, bitter, and real:
I stopped fixing myself and started to feel.

Each flaw rose up between me and you,
That’s how I knew what the Klipa can do.
Not to destroy me, not to disgrace—
But to beg for a place in the light of His face.

So I gather the mess, the envy, the blame,
All seventy voices, every name.
I don’t clean them — I lift them whole:
“Creator, clothe this will to receive in soul.”

Sunday, January 4, 2026

The Path of Truth

The Path of Truth

The point in my heart woke me up one day,
Not with trumpets or fire—just a quiet tug to pray.
I still had bills, flat tires, coffee gone cold,
Kids, work, aches, the same stories retold.

I thought the call meant peace, a softer road,
But life got heavier—I felt the load.
One problem hit, then another right through,
Not to break me apart, but to show what is true.

I lost my temper in traffic, pride at my job,
Got hurt by a word, then hurt back like a slob.
Nothing dramatic, no lightning or flame,
Just ego uncovered, again and again.

Every calamity showed me my face,
How I want to receive, how little I place
The friends before me, the goal before “me,”
How far my heart is from what it should be.

The car breaks down, the money runs thin,
Someone in the ten rubs salt in my skin.
I want to run, to be right, to be free—
And there it is: the real enemy.

Not the boss, not the wife, not fate or the day,
But the voice inside saying, “You come first—always.”
Each fall builds a hunger, a deeper request,
Not for comfort or calm, but to rise above self.

Slowly I learn why the pain shows its face:
To grow my deficiency, widen the space
Where love of the friends can finally sit,
Where the Creator can enter—bit by bit.

I stop asking “Why me?” and start asking “How?”
How do I help the ten, right here, right now?
How do I bow when my ego screams “Stand!”
How do I give with an empty hand?

This path isn’t pretty, it’s dusty and real,
Made of small choices, not flashes of zeal.
But every hard moment, wrapped gently in love,
Pushes my heart toward what’s waiting above.

From the first quiet call to Dvekut so true,
Every blow was a gift meant to shape something new.
This is the truth, simple, steady, and rough—
We’re broken on purpose…
so love is enough.

The Klipa Smiles

Everything is calculated down to the tee
The Klipa won’t let us see
Just what an ass we truly are
About calling on the Creator—instead we see stars

We polish excuses, call ego “insight,”
Mistake imagination for spiritual light
We chase sensations, halos, and signs,
While dodging the work that shatters the spine

We say “I prayed,” but we never got low,
Never begged from the place we refuse to show
We asked for comfort, for peace, for relief,
Not for exposure of rootless belief

The Klipa smiles, says, “You’re doing just fine,”
Feeds us pride dressed up as the Divine
It hates one thing—raw honest lack,
Where a man admits, “I don’t know the track.”

The Creator waits—not in stars or dreams,
But in the crack where the ego screams
When there’s nothing left to hide or pretend,
That’s where the prayer can finally ascend

So yes—it’s measured, weighed, and exact,
Every fall tailored to break the act
Blessed is the blow that kills the lie,
And leaves one request that cannot deny

“Not knowledge. Not light. Not how I feel.
Just give me a heart that wants what’s real.”

Saturday, January 3, 2026

Many Are the Afflictions

 Many Are the Afflictions

I tried to walk clean, but the body screamed louder,
Every step toward bestowal made the weight heavier, prouder.
When I worked for myself, the road felt wide and smooth,
But aiming at You lit a fire the ego couldn’t soothe.

Each time I chose truth, the wicked woke up inside,
“What’s this work for you?”—the same old knife in my side.
Day turns to light, and the shadow grows tall,
One mitzvah forward—then I’m split again, half and all.

The evil doesn’t rush me; it’s measured and slow,
Revealed only as much as the good I can show.
You don’t break me at once—you know what I can bear,
You hand me heavier weights because You know I’ll care.

I thought I was failing, the work harder each day,
But You were training my vessels, shaping the way.
The pain was the Kli, the lack was the cry,
No light without hunger, no soul without why.

I begged You to save me, to end this fight,
But You waited for wholeness—left, right, then light.
Not cruelty—precision, not silence—design,
Each prayer stored safely, counted in time.

I wanted peace now, to finally rest,
But You said, “This world too must be dressed.”
Not only bestowal, not only the next,
But even reception corrected, annexed.

So if I suffer, it’s proof I’m in,
You only expose what I’m meant to mend.
Many afflictions—but none are in vain,
You deliver me fully… through every pain.

Thursday, January 1, 2026

Praying For The Ten

Praying For The Ten 

Wake up in the morning and say my prayers

Head to the kitchen ’cause my coffee’s there
Sit on the porch in my rocking chair
Praying for the Ten, putting love in the air

Sun coming up, world still quiet
Ego talking loud, but I don’t buy it
Heart feels heavy, mind ain’t clear
So I lean on the friends that I hold dear

Some days strong, some days weak
Some days I fall, can’t even speak
But I remember why I’m not alone
We build one heart from broken stone

I don’t pray for gold, I don’t pray for fame
I pray we stay true through joy and pain
If I lose my way, pull me back again
I live, I breathe, for the Ten

Wednesday, December 31, 2025

The Light Was Never The Problem

 

“The Light Was Never the Problem”

The Light never asked if I was ready to see,
It burned the whole time — the fault was in me.
I screamed at the heavens, “Why don’t You reply?”
While hiding a vessel too cracked to comply.

I’m not master of thoughts, they strike like a blade,
I don’t choose their arrival, I choose how I’m played.
The screen is the battleground, thick or refined,
Not Light that is lacking — but will in the mind.

I begged for restriction, I cursed at the flame,
But Rabash stood firm and dismantled the game:
You never restrict what was never confined,
You restrict what you are — not the Light you can’t bind.

So I grind down the ego, refine what I feel,
Build strength in the Masach, make intention my shield.
The Light doesn’t stop — it was waiting all along,
For a vessel grown humble, corrected, and strong.

Tuesday, December 30, 2025

“I Hear דבקות (Dvekut) Calling”

 

“I Hear דבקות (Dvekut) Calling”

I hear דבקות calling — not soft, not sweet,
It don’t whisper comfort, it drags my feet.
It don’t ask me nice, it don’t let me hide,
It pounds on my chest saying die while alive.

I fall straight into מלכות, cracked and bare,
No excuses left, no prayer prepared.
Just a hole in the heart where the truth leaks through,
And a scream that says I can’t do this — You do.

Then בינה steps in like a mother with steel,
Cuts off my taking so I finally feel.
Not mercy for ego, not love for the lie,
But the strength to stop grabbing and still not die.

חכמה flashes — too bright, too fast,
A flood with no question, no future, no past.
It don’t explain itself, it don’t slow its flame,
If I try to hold it — it burns up my name.

And כתר don’t argue, don’t bargain, don’t bend,
It just asks one thing — are you with the Ten?
Not your story, not your pain, not your spiritual sound,
But whose will is crowned when no one’s around.

So I strip off the masks, the roles, the plea,
I stop trying to be “low” so they’ll look at me.
I annul without drama, include without fear,
Let the life of the Ten pass straight through here.

And right there — between us — no label, no claim,
Not owned, not taught, not trapped in a name,
דבקות breathes warm like a shared last breath,
Connection louder than life or death.

We Come With Everything (Congress Time)

 

WE COME WITH EVERYTHING

We are not coming for comfort, applause, or display,
We’re coming because our souls found the way.
Before tickets or plans or a date on the wall,
This meeting was written inside of us all.

Bring what is broken, bring what feels thin,
Bring doubts that still echo and storms from within.
No strength is required, no mask to maintain,
The Ten is built only from truth and from pain.

Your seat in the room is not random or spare,
A place in the Kli only you can repair.
If you think you are empty, that’s precisely the key—
The lack that you carry is how we are free.

Sit with the friends, even silent, even worn,
A shared inner future is quietly born.
No one above and no one below,
Just hearts learning how to bestow what they know.

This isn’t a weekend, a lesson, a stage,
It’s a vow to stay bonded from age unto age.
To choose love again when the feeling grows thin,
Until “me” disappears in the love of the Ten.

We come for the friends who don’t yet feel strong,
We come to hold space when the road feels too long.
And something eternal will rise when we do—
The Creator revealed between me and you.

Monday, December 29, 2025

A Prayer the 99% Don't Know They're Saying

 


A Prayer the 99% Don’t Know They’re Saying

We heard there’s a Torah, rules carved in the sky,
Six hundred thirteen ways to live, or to die.
Two kinds, they say—some yes, some no,
But nobody taught us how the inside should go.

They told us, “Do good. Don’t cross the line.”
“Be careful. Be proper. Be holy. Be fine.”
So we learned how to stop, how to shut, how to hide,
But no one explained what to do with the fire inside.

Two hundred forty-eight say, Stand up and give,
Move your heart forward, choose how you live.
Three sixty-five say, Don’t take for yourself,
Hold back the ego, put it back on the shelf.

But here’s where we stumble, here’s where we freeze—
We stop doing wrong… then stop doing anything.
We call it control, we call it restraint,
But slowly our color all turns into paint.

We withdraw from the fight, withdraw from the mess,
Withdraw from the love that demands our “yes.”
We don’t steal, don’t shout, don’t cross the line—
But we also don’t give, don’t risk, don’t shine.

We sit there thinking, “At least I’m clean,”
While our heart grows distant, quiet, unseen.
No harm, no sin, no obvious crime—
Just a life untouched by connection or time.

They call it adhesion—clinging to what’s real,
Not escaping the world, but learning to feel.
Not floating away, not hiding in law,
But loving through limits, with awe and with flaw.

Because stopping desire was never the goal,
The goal was to aim it, to give it a soul.
If restraint makes you smaller, colder, alone,
That’s not holiness—that’s fear wearing a crown.

So here’s the prayer we never learned how to say:
“Teach me to stop taking—but not walk away.
Teach me to hold back—but still stay near.
Teach me to love without using or fear.”

Let my “don’t” guard my heart, not lock it tight.
Let my “do” bring warmth, not ego or might.
Let my silence be chosen, not born from retreat.
Let my steps move toward others, not back to my seat.

If I’ve been calling withdrawal ‘being wise,’
Open my eyes, Creator—gently, not hard.
I don’t want to be right while my heart disappears.
I want adhesion that shows up in years.

Not above life.
Not outside the room.
But inside the struggle, where love learns to bloom.

Amen—
not from the mouth,
but from the place that still wants to belong.

Striking The Screen

 

“Striking the Screen”

Thoughts hit my skull like a hammering rain,
Round and around, same doubt, same pain.
If this was false I’d sleep just fine,
But truth don’t rest where the ego signs.

The mind demands proof, a reason, a feel,
It wants a receipt, something stamped as real.
But the screen stands firm, I swallow the blow,
Faith clenched tight where the answers won’t show.

No sweetness here, no glow, no spark,
Just grit in my teeth and a walk in the dark.
I don’t feel the King, don’t taste His weight,
Yet I stay on the road and don’t renegotiate.

Every strike says “quit,” every whisper says “bend,”
But the screen says “hold” and I won’t rescind.
Above reason I crown Him, silent and still,
And that hidden choice fills the upper will.

No more, no less — exact is the law,
What I raise above mind returns as awe.
First in concealment I pay the price,
Then truth descends, measured, precise.

So beat me with thoughts, let the whole world shout,
This screen stays standing — that’s what joy’s about.

Saturday, December 27, 2025

Reason Is The Next Wall

 

Reason Is the Next Wall

I climbed above reason and thought I arrived,
The pain got quieter, my hope felt alive.
The darkness retreated, the doubts took a seat,
I said, “This must be faith,” then faith turned to deceit.

What once was belief became comfort and ground,
The edge disappeared, no danger I found.
My reason got dressed in spiritual clothes,
And stopped me from climbing where real faith goes.

The Creator withdrew, not out of neglect,
But to show me the trap of what I call correct.
What lifted me yesterday, today blocks the way,
And demands I rise higher or honestly pray.

I cannot jump alone, the height is too steep,
My reason screams safety, my ego says sleep.
Only the Ten, pulling hard on my soul,
Can drag me beyond my imagined control.

Again we rise, and again it will fall,
Each new reason turning into the next wall.
Until nothing is left that I call “me,”
And between us appears what they call Dvekut — free.

Between Two Worlds Is Prayer

 

Between Two Worlds Is Prayer

We walk this world with our feet in the dust,
Hearts full of cracks but a stubborn trust.
This state feels heavy, the nights feel long,
Yet something keeps whispering, hold on, stay strong.

We dream of a place where the heart is not torn,
Where love of the friends feels natural, born.
Not clouds or crowns or a heavenly view,
Just hearts stitched together, simple and true.

This world pulls inward, the ego’s demand,
The next pulls outward — take your friend’s hand.
Between the two states, no clever repair,
Only a cry rising up called prayer.

Not prayers of comfort, not prayers for ease,
But prayers to bend where the ego won’t please.
To see my brother as higher than me,
To beg for the strength just to let him be free.

If I fall today, let it be for the Ten,
If I rise tomorrow, let it lift them again.
No world to escape, no future to flee,
Just learning to love — that’s eternity.

When Prayer Can't Pray

 

“When Prayer Can’t Pray”

I came with words, I came with need
I came believing You would lead
I knocked so hard my knuckles bled
And heaven stayed completely dead

My mouth went dry, my heart went cold
The body laughed, you’ve prayed — you’re old
“Look at the years, look at the cost
Every request already lost”

I knew You help, I knew it’s true
But knowing didn’t pull me through
The bitter herb stayed in my throat
I swallowed prayers — they wouldn’t float

Then faith collapsed, not You — just me
No strength to ask, no will to plea
So here I stood, stripped of disguise
With nothing left but empty eyes

And in that place so dark, so bare
I found one thing that still was there
A cry not shaped, a plea undone
“Help me to pray — I have none”

No answer came, no sudden light
Just one more step against my sight
To trust You hear, though I don’t feel
To pray against what looks real

This is the work — not hope that sees
But standing broke upon my knees
When prayer dies and still I stay
That is the faith above the way

Friday, December 26, 2025

Not in the Ten

 

“Not in the Ten”

I sat alone and told myself I’m fine,
Held thoughts a little longer, felt divine.
I watched the mind behave, the heart grow still,
And called it spirit—by my own free will.

But Rav’s voice cut through my clever lie,
“That’s not the soul—just flesh dressed up to fly.”
No matter how refined the feeling seems,
Alone it’s body, not the higher means.

I measured silence, counted breaths and hours,
Admired the ego polishing its powers.
I felt improved, more focused, calm and clean,
But none of it was born between.

For spirit doesn’t live where “I” reside,
It breathes where self-concern has truly died.
Not in my thoughts, not in my private gain,
But where my heart submits to shared pain.

The Ten is not a comfort, club, or tool,
It’s where the ego’s forced to look the fool.
Where I can’t hide behind my inner peace,
Where self-made holiness is brought to cease.

Alone, I choose what effort I’ll allow,
With friends, the truth confronts me now.
Their faces crack my fortress made of thought,
Expose the love I’ve never truly sought.

So if I feel uplifted, calm, or bright,
Yet stand outside the Ten—then Rav is right.
No matter how it dresses, sounds, or glows,
That work is still the body… not the soul.

And now a lack is burning in my chest,
Not for insight—but to rejoin the test.
To lose myself where something real can start,
One heart with many bodies—one man, one heart.

No Where to Run (Cup Full of Lack)

 I knocked on every gate I knew by name

Each one swore light would end the shame
I studied, prayed, I bent my will
Still found my cup was empty still

I trusted verses, plans, and signs
I counted steps, I drew the lines
I followed every rule they gave
Still stood alone beside the grave

I tried belief, it wouldn’t stay
It packed its bags and walked away
I tried despair, it lied to me
Said, “At least now you clearly see”

But clarity just burned my hands
No truth to stand on, no commands
No forward step, no past retreat
Just hollow ground beneath my feet

I begged for help — the words felt fake
My prayer itself began to shake
No warmth, no tears, no holy sound
Just silence pressing all around

I wanted proof You heard my cry
The heavens stayed completely dry
So there I stood with nothing left
Not strong, not broken — only cleft

And in that crack, where nothing fits
Where even hope admits it quits
I stayed — not brave, not pure, not sure
Just stayed… and somehow that was prayer

No faith to claim, no lie to dress
No strength except my helplessness
If You are good — then let it be
Not felt, not seen — just done through me

I bring You not a shining cup
Just all the ways I’ve given up
If this is loss — then take it too
If this is death — then birth me new

Wednesday, December 24, 2025

Born From The Crack In The Will To Receive

 Born From the Crack



We studied the words, we nodded our head
We thought we were living, but mostly we read
Pages turned clean, yet nothing had changed
Till the Light came quiet and rearranged

The ego stood tall, said “I got this just fine”
Built castles of logic, reason, and time
Then something inside me started to bend
Not wisdom, not answers—just no way to pretend

A crack in the armor, a tremble in will
I wanted connection but couldn’t be still
The heart felt exposed, stripped naked and raw
No speeches, no prayers, no clever Torah

I saw my own distance, my love made of trade
How often I gave just to feel I was paid
The friends looked the same, but I wasn’t the same
Something new stood silent, calling my name

It hurt like a loss, like ground giving way
Like yesterday’s truths couldn’t help me today
But deep in the breaking, a whisper was born
Not from my strength—but where I was torn

This wasn’t a thought I could store on a shelf
It came when I stopped trying to save myself
A need for the Ten, not poetic, not sweet
A hunger no ego could package or beat

And that’s how it happens, no fireworks loud
No badge of honor, no spiritual crown
Just a new little vessel, fragile and real
Born where I failed—and started to feel

So don’t fear the darkness, the stumble, the fall
That’s where the Creator reshapes it all
Every true change leaves reason in lack
An innovation… born from the crack

Tuesday, December 23, 2025

The Soul Knows Before The Mind

 

The Soul Knows Before the Mind

We open the book and the words feel dry,
Ten Sefirot speaking way up in the sky.
My mind starts barking, “You don’t belong,”
“You don’t get a thing—move along.”

But the work never asked for clever or smart,
It asked for a grip with a trembling heart.
Not grasping the map, not seeing the road,
Just standing still where the Light is bestowed.

The ego screams loud, “You’re wasting your time,”
“These worlds make no sense, these lines don’t rhyme.”
But the soul stays quiet, steady, and sure,
Drinking what reason could never secure.

Fear says, “If you don’t get it, you’re lost,”
Faith says, “Sit still—this growth has a cost.”
Not coins, not pride, not intellectual gain,
But the burning surrender of not having a name.

Each word hits places I cannot define,
Not entering thought, but carving the spine.
Something is moving, aligning inside,
While reason stands helpless, stripped of its pride.

The system is faithful, exact, and alive,
It feeds what the soul needs—not what I derive.
So I shut up the judge, the critic, the thief,
And stay in the room with a thread of belief.

Understanding comes later—after the break,
After the ego’s no longer awake.
First comes the Light, unseen but precise,
Then comes the knowing—paid for in price.

So I listen, confused, yet rooted and still,
Not chasing a concept, but bowing my will.
Because growth isn’t proof, and truth isn’t loud—
The soul learns best when the mind isn’t proud.

Something New Was Born

 

“Something New Was Born”


I woke up heavy, same old fight,
Same damn thoughts that swear they’re right.
I did the work, I played the role,
But nothing moved inside the soul.

I prayed the words, I showed my face,
But joy wouldn’t enter this stubborn place.
I blamed the road, I blamed the men,
I blamed the world, not once the “I” within.

Then it hit me hard — like Shamati warned,
Joy ain’t a gift, it’s a sign you’re reborn.
Not smart, not strong, not feeling wise,
But faith that walks with blinded eyes.

No joy means still the same old me,
Polishing chains, calling it “free.”
But one small crack — a hairline bend,
Where self let go for the sake of the Ten.

No fireworks, no holy glow,
Just choosing bestowal when reason said “no.”
And there it was — quiet, clear,
A newborn point the ego fears.

Joy crept in — not loud, not proud,
But real as tears that aren’t allowed.
Not from knowing, not from control,
But something new carved in the soul.

So if I’m dry, I don’t pretend,
I don’t accuse the road or friends.
I ask one thing, again, again:
“Creator — renew me for the Ten.”