One Shared Heart

---

Traveling through the city day after day

seeing the lost love in every way

wondering what’s next for those who don’t see

how to relate to them the way things should be

I watch them rush with eyes cast low

carrying weights they’ll never show

phones in their hands, hearts locked tight

chasing small comforts to get through the night

I’m no better, I bleed the same

wear different masks, play the same game

thinking I’m whole ‘cause I study and pray

while ego still whispers, you’re fine—stay this way

So how do I love them, cracked as I am

with shaking knees and an empty plan

not fixing their lives, not preaching the truth

but standing beside them in borrowed youth

Maybe it’s silence, maybe a glance

maybe just giving the heart a chance

to feel their burden as if it were mine

and beg the Creator to stitch us in time

No speeches, no flags, no winning the fight

just choosing connection in plain daylight

city keeps moving, lost love still stays

but one shared heart can redeem our days

A Clean Slate Between Us

“A Clean Slate Between Us”

We come to the Ten with a tired face,

Dragging the week, the doubts, the race.

Each one certain he’s failed again,

Silent despair tucked under his skin.

We sit together yet guard our pain,

Speaking of storms, of loss, of strain.

Not seeing how every careless word

Can drain the life from a friend unheard.

We say we came to give, to unite,

Yet carry the night into the light.

We forget the charge placed in our hand—

To raise the hearts, not help them sink in sand.

Because a friend does not need my truth

If my truth strips him of strength and youth.

He needs my fire, my borrowed breath,

Not my poetry dressed up as death.

The work is simple and cruelly clear:

Bring life into what’s trembling with fear.

Not wisdom, not depth, not clever lines—

But hope that says, “You’re doing just fine.”

To sit in the Ten is not to confess,

It’s to cancel myself for the group’s success.

If I leave him heavier than before,

Then I robbed the society at its core.

I must walk in like dawn after rain,

Even if inside I’m screaming in pain.

Because the slate is wiped—not by time—

But when I lift him, and he lifts mine.

Yesterday I faced a mountain too tall,

Ego roaring, ready to let me fall.

Today the same mountain shrinks to dust—

Not by my strength, but the friends I trust.

They didn’t argue, they didn’t explain,

They didn’t echo my doubts and pain.

They gave me a mood, a pulse, a start—

They believed for me with a borrowed heart.

This is the crime we repeat each day:

We come to receive, then get in the way.

We forget the law written sharp and plain—

The society lives or dies by what we bring.

So I stand accused—and I stand in love,

Because this demand descends from Above.

To be a place where a friend can say:

“Now I begin—today’s a new day.”

Not because the path suddenly cleared,

But because the Ten made courage appear.

And if I fail, then let this be true:

I will fail trying to give life to you.

And when we do this—man to man—

The mountain bows, the work begins.

The Creator smiles, unseen yet near,

Because hope walked in—and He followed here.

Standing for The Creator

Standing for the Creator

We work all day in this corporal life

Pulled between hunger and heavenly strife

Never asking, what’s the game?

’Cause every blow feels just the same

Everything sent us is meant to mend

The shattered will the heart must send

Not to escape, not to defend,

But face the place where cracks must bend

No running off when strength runs thin,

No holy mask to hide the sin

When faith goes dry and hope feels dead,

We stand on what the sages said

No bargain struck, no deal for light,

Just choosing truth in endless night

The work is done where no one sees,

Between the fear and bent knees

Each breath a vow we never said,

Each step a prayer the ego bled

Not crowned below, not marked by fame,

But known Above—by standing in His Name

Not seen by day, not praised by way,

Yet lighting worlds by how we stay

“NOT THE PAYCHECK — THE HANDS”

 

 “NOT THE PAYCHECK — THE HANDS”

 (English)

We don’t move unless there’s rest at the end,

We won’t lift a finger unless something bends.

It’s not laziness, no—this goes deeper than that,

We’re built from a Root that never once had to act.

Creation was born with a hunger inside,

A will just to take, to be filled, satisfied.

So why’s the table set, but the feast locked away?

Why’s the Light knocking softly, but we can’t say “stay”?

Because taking feels rotten when form’s not aligned,

Receiving for self leaves a bad taste behind.

So the Light pulled back—not from lack, not from fear,

But to teach us how to receive without shame in the mirror.

So what’s the reward? Not pleasure, not gold,

Not blessings stacked high or stories retold.

The paycheck is this—say it slow, say it true:

Give me the hands that know how to give You.

Not the feast—give me hunger that’s clean,

Not the wine—give me vessels unseen.

Give me screens, give me reflected flame,

So when I receive, I don’t feel the same.

There’s lines in the road—some you don’t cross,

Some you can walk but you feel the cost.

Some deeds are holy even done half-blind,

And some are empty if self’s on the mind.

Lo Lishma still walks toward the door,

Slow as hell—but it gets there for sure.

But Lishma? That sticks like bone to bone,

Each step tighter—till you’re never alone.

So don’t ask Heaven to spoil your plate,

Ask for a heart that can carry the weight.

Because when bestowal becomes who you are,

You inherit the table, the Light, and the star.

---

שִׁיר – עברית (Hebrew)

לא זזים בלי מנוחה בקצה הדרך,

לא פועלים בלי שכר שמרגיש בטוח.

זה לא עצלות—זה שורש קדום,

בורא בלי תנועה, בלי שינוי, בלי שום פגם.

הרצון לקבל הוא כל מה שנברא,

אז למה האור מחכה ולא נכנס כבר?

כי קבלה לעצמי צורבת בפנים,

בלי השתוות הצורה—זה נשאר חסר טעם בפנים.

אז הצמצום בא מאהבה מדויקת,

לא להסתיר—רק ללמד איך מקבלים באמת.

אז מה השכר? לא עונג, לא אור,

רק כלים להשפעה—וזה כל הסיפור.

לא האור—תן לי מסך יציב,

לא התענוג—תן לי לב שמקריב.

אור חוזר, כוונה זכה,

שאקבל רק כדי לשמח אותך.

יש אסור, מותר, ויש מצווה,

יש בלי כוונה ויש לשמה.

לא לשמה—זה לא אבוד,

אבל לשמה—שם נדבקים בייחוד.

אז אל תבקש תשלום מהשמיים,

בקש ידיים שיודעות להשפיע באמת.

כי כשיש כלים של נתינה בלב,

Same Boat Same Oar

I thought responsibility meant standing tall,

Doing my part, never ready to fall.

Fixing my steps, correcting my way,

Proving my worth day after day.

But the truth broke through like a merciless wave:

No one here asked me to be brave.

No one asked me to finish the race—

Only to care for the friends in this place.

We’re all in one boat, cracked and worn,

Floating between despair and dawn.

No one steering, no one clean,

Just broken hearts and borrowed dreams.

I have no power to fix a soul,

No strength to make another whole.

I can’t force light, I can’t command sight,

I can’t pull a friend out of night.

So where’s my work if I can’t perform?

Where’s responsibility if I can’t transform?

It hit me hard, simple and clear—

My job is to stay near.

To care when faith runs dry,

To hold the rope when spirits die.

Not to lift them, not to lead—

But to remind them we all need.

Responsibility isn’t doing it right,

It’s refusing to leave the fight.

It’s saying, “Brother, I’m just like you—

Same doubts, same storms, same view.”

And when that care is real and bare,

Something unseen fills the air.

Not from me, not from them—

But a force that flows when we don’t pretend.

That’s where the Light finds room to breathe,

Not in heroes, not in belief.

It moves when we finally see—

Connection is responsibility.

So I stop performing, I drop the mask,

I don’t ask who failed the task.

I take my place, shoulder to oar,

Same broken boat, same sea, same shore.

And somehow—listen, this is true—

The boat holds steady, the sky breaks through.

Because when we care without demand or claim,

Bestowal rows in our name.

Stand Guard

 Stand Guard

One must stand guard when the heart wants sleep,

When the mouth says faith but the tears won’t weep.

When lessons play and the body’s there,

But the soul is missing its daily care.

We say “day” when the light feels near,

We say “night” when the goal’s unclear.

But truth cuts deep when we check inside—

We guard the hours, not the fire we hide.

We wake for lessons, coffee in hand,

But who’s evoking the heart of the man?

Who knocks on the chest when the friend goes quiet,

When absence becomes our silent diet?

We mourn the missing, yet still move on,

Calling it patience, calling it strong.

But love that waits and never calls

Is fear dressed up as spiritual walls.

We say, “He’s busy,” “Life’s too tight,”

While hearts drift off into endless night.

What’s missing isn’t the chairs or names—

It’s the cry that burns without shame.

What’s missing is trembling, raw and loud,

Not polished prayers or spiritual pride.

What’s missing is fear of losing the bond,

Fear of a ten that forgets its one.

We guard our comfort, our roles, our place,

But not the breach in a brother’s face.

We guard the form, the times, the law—

But who guards the love that must never pause?

And here the blade cuts clean and true:

The missing piece… is me and you.

Not them who drifted, not fate, not time—

But our refusal to cross the line.

For to evoke a heart is to bleed first,

To choose their lack above your thirst.

To shout into darkness, “You’re not alone,”

And stake your soul on that single tone.

And now—the rise, the oath, the flame:

We stand as guards in the Creator’s name.

Day or night, joy or collapse,

We wake the heart till the sparks relapse—

Till love ignites without command,

Till the ten stands whole, one heart, one man.

And the night itself begins to sing,

Because we guarded everything.

There Is a Chair Still Warm

 

“There Is a Chair Still Warm”

We didn’t gather by chance, we were pulled by a thread

From a spark in the heart to the words that were said

From Israel nights when the sounds weren’t clear

Still the bond was forming, even through fear

We learned without language, through effort and pain

When Hebrew fell silent, the heart still remained

Not every word landed, not every line fit

But the longing was louder than intellect

Carl held the line when the work felt tight

James burned like a candle, pure love, pure light

Jean ran the race till the world called his name

Oscar carried burdens we never could blame

Time pulled them sideways, work pulled them away

But love doesn’t vanish just ‘cause life gets loud in the day

There’s a seat at the table that still knows their shape

And a space in the circle no one can replace

Now Carl still anchors, steady and true

Terry brings warmth in all that we do

Joe Bash with fire, Joe Donnelly with care

Derick stands firm, shoulders squared in prayer

Louis brings depth where silence speaks

Ilya holds truth when the ego leaks

Aron arrives with a heart wide open

And I stand with them, cracked — but chosen

But hear this clear, and hear it from love

The work doesn’t move without help from above

And above doesn’t move without hearts down here

Showing up tired, confused, sincere

Lessons aren’t lectures, meals aren’t food

They’re stitches that hold the shattered soul glued

When one goes missing, the fabric feels thin

The light hesitates… waiting to enter again

We don’t need perfection, we don’t need strength

We need your presence — that’s the length

Of the bridge that carries us over the fall

One missing heart weakens the call

So if you’re reading this late, worn down, unsure

Thinking your absence won’t change the cure

Know this — the Ten is not whole without you

And the Creator is waiting through what we do

The chair’s still warm, the plate’s still set

The lesson still aches for you to be met

Come sit with us — broken, late, afraid

That’s exactly how this vessel is made

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.”

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.”

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.

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

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.

“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.