Full Like A Pomegranate

 

“FULL LIKE A POMEGRANATE”

I filled my hands with holy deeds and prayer,

Stacked mitzvot high like I was going somewhere.

Counted my steps, my pages, every move,

Certain the weight of effort proved the proof.

But late at night when no one else was near,

A quiet voice exposed the lie I feared.

Not what I did—but why I always came,

Not love of Him, just love of my own name.

I gave, I learned, I sang, I bowed my head,

But fed myself with every word I said.

Each act was dressed in light, so clean, so bright,

Yet underneath it all—I served my bite.

A pomegranate split, so full, so red,

Each seed a deed I proudly thought I fed.

But juice of deceit ran down my hands,

I saw the truth I couldn’t countermand.

I wanted Him to serve the life I chose,

To bless my plans, reward my righteous pose.

I worked for pay, for peace, for holy gain,

And called the bargain “faith,” and hid the chain.

Then mercy struck—no thunder, no escape,

Just seeing clearly my own twisted shape.

I couldn’t fix it, couldn’t climb or try,

My strength collapsed, my prayers learned to cry.

Now empty stands the man who did so much,

No coin of merit left for him to clutch.

Yet in this ruin something true is born:

A need so real it tears the veil I wore.

If this is hell, then let it burn me clean,

For now I know what “Israel” must mean.

Not full of deeds, but broken, bare, and true—

Needing the One who alone can make me new.

---

The Road To February

 The Road to February

He marked the date and closed his eyes,

A distant land, a hidden prize.

February whispered soft and real,

A pull he could not help but feel.

But months before the ticket’s name,

The world leaned hard, the fire became flame.

Work piled up, the hours grew long,

Every step forward felt somehow wrong.

Money tightened like a clenched fist,

Bills lined up, no room to miss.

A newborn cried through sleepless nights,

Love was full—but heavy the fights.

His wife spoke truth with fear, not blame,

“A child needs you—this isn’t a game.”

Her words cut deep, not sharp but fair,

Responsibility thick in the air.

Inside his heart the question burned,

Is this desire selfish or earned?

He didn’t answer, didn’t pretend,

He went instead—to the Ten, his friends.

He didn’t ask for coins or ease,

He asked for strength, for what to see.

He laid it bare, the doubt, the load,

The fear of failing both paths he rode.

They didn’t promise, didn’t plan,

They held his heart like only friends can.

They raised the goal, the why, the flame,

Reminded him he’s not alone in the pain.

And time moved on, as time will do,

Still unclear—but something grew.

Extra hours, unexpected calls,

Walls gave way that once stood tall.

Work aligned without demand,

Money showed up—not in his hand,

But right on time, exact, precise,

Like mercy dressed in normal life.

And then one night, no lesson taught,

No argument, no pressure brought,

His wife sat down, looked in his eyes,

And love replaced the old replies.

She said, “I see what this means to you,

I see what it pulls your heart to do.

You should go—Israel is your place,

I won’t stand in love’s way.”

He didn’t cheer, he didn’t speak,

Tears fell quiet, strong and weak.

Not victory, not being right—

Just gratitude flooding the night.

For the road was hard, the cost was real,

Every doubt something he had to feel.

But nothing was forced, nothing torn,

Only faith refined, reshaped, reborn.

And as February drew near at last,

He packed not escape—but a path.

Carrying pressure, joy, and fear,

Knowing the Creator was already there.

Not waiting in Israel, not far away—

But in every step that led him that way.

How does one choose a new group

How does one choose a new group

it feels like looking into alphabet soup

i know it don’t mean to find new friends

so how does one truly begin

not by faces, not by names

not by comfort, warmth, or claims

not by who makes room for me

but who bows to unity

i step in quiet, without demand

no flag raised in my hand

i don’t ask who welcomes me

i ask where pride won’t let me be

i listen more than i explain

let confusion work its grain

where resistance starts to rise

truth is closer than my eyes

no promises carved in stone

just showing up, unknown

if i can serve the aim, not self

that’s the first brick on the shelf

and if the road feels thin and bare

that’s how i know the work is there

Covered In Love

 

Covered in Love

Ok let’s get real here, no masks, no disguise,

We see the path for what it is, no smoke in our eyes.

We see just how to give, not loud, not above,

But quiet annulment, all covered in love.

We ran for so long with a fist held tight,

Calling it strength, calling it fight.

Now we see strength is learning to bend,

Choosing the Ten again and again.

The ego cries out, afraid to be small,

Afraid it might lose, afraid it might fall.

But love steps in where fear once stood,

Whispering softly: this is good.

We don’t give sermons, we don’t correct,

We give our hearts with full self-respect.

Not fixing the friend, not judging the pain,

Just holding the place where the Light can remain.

The Creator isn’t found in what I achieve,

But in what I release, in what I leave.

Between us, a space begins to breathe,

And love becomes something we actually see.

No one is late, no one is wrong,

Some carry the tune, some hum along.

Each soul arrives by a different door,

But the room we’re building is one heart, one floor.

This is the path, simple and severe,

Cancel myself so the friends appear.

And in that space where “me” lets go,

The Creator rises… gentle and slow.

From My Heart It Swears

From My Heart It Swears

From my heart it swears

No matter what I do I’m blocked there

I know it’s a lie

It’s a sign I must try

No matter the why

I ask for help this day

Only to feel rejected in every way

Each door feels shut in my face

Each prayer falls flat in space

But I know this pain ain’t random fire

It’s the Creator shaping my desire

This wall ain’t built to make me fall

It’s built to teach me where to call

Not inward, not alone

Not king, not on a throne

But into the friends, into the ten

Where my heart learns how to bend

The ego screams, “You’re cast aside”

But that’s the lie it learned to hide

Because rejection cuts the pride

So truth can grow where love abides

If I’m blocked, it’s not the way

It’s the “me” that wants to stay

This lock won’t break by force or might

Only by choosing us over right

So I don’t curse this empty prayer

I don’t run from the deadened air

I bring my lack, naked and true

And place it softly into you

And there — between our shared despair

A crack appears inside the wall

Not in my heart, not in my head

But between us — where Light is bred

That’s where the answer always was

Not mercy earned, not wages paid

But love assembled piece by piece

Until the block itself is prayed

Between Us

 Between Us 

We were born in a story we didn’t write,

Thrown into the day, pushed into the night.

Parents, towns, and roads we roam,

Chasing a feeling we call “home.”

We grind, we build, we laugh, we fall,

Buy the dream, then outgrow it all.

New car shine, leather seat thrill,

Till the hunger returns—unpaid bill.

Anger flares when the road cuts tight,

Ego jumps up ready to fight.

“I'm right, you’re wrong,” the old refrain,

Same old script, different pain.

The heart ain’t flesh, it’s want and need,

Two vessels pulling at top speed.

One grabs pleasure, never full,

One waits quiet, barely a pulse.

That spark don’t grow alone, no way,

It needs resistance, needs the fray.

Friends collide, egos scream,

And in that mess—a higher dream.

We don’t fix ourselves, that’s the lie,

The Light shows up when we try

To hold the goal when we can’t stand,

Leaning hard on another hand.

Arvut ain’t words, it’s law and fact,

Fall alone? You don’t come back.

But together we bend, together we rise,

A place where the Creator opens His eyes.

The Campaign Between lives

“The Campaign Between Lives”

We stand between the lives we’ve known,

Between the seeds already sown,

Between what died, what comes alive,

Between the will that won’t survive.

We see the states both dark and bright,

Called death by day, called life by night,

No place to run, no camp to flee,

This war is waged internally.

Persistence pulls us thread by thread,

Through all the living and the dead,

Each step returns us to the flow,

An endless path we come to know.

I pray for you, you pray for me,

No self remains, no “I,” no “he,”

Each works the other’s broken plea,

Till all are answered—eternally.

Who Presses Send

---

Who Presses Send

I didn’t wake up holy, I woke up late,

Phone buzzing debts, another sealed fate.

Coffee tastes bitter, mirror won’t lie,

I ask what’s wrong, but I don’t ask why.

I try to be good, I try to be strong,

But every intention bends itself wrong.

I say “Creator, help,” then rush my day,

Forgetting the words before they decay.

I think I decide when to finally pray,

When pain gets loud or hope runs away.

But the cracks showed up before I could choose,

Like a script already written, I just read the cues.

The what wasn’t money, or peace, or relief,

It was seeing my heart as a professional thief.

Stealing the moment, the credit, the light,

Calling it freedom while losing the fight.

The when wasn’t planned, wasn’t marked on a chart,

It came when the ego ran out of smart.

When excuses collapsed and the mask finally slipped,

That’s when the prayer got honest, not scripted.

The where wasn’t church, or lesson, or room,

It was inside the wreckage, the dust, the gloom.

Between who I wanted to be and who I became,

In that narrow space where nothing’s to blame.

And the who… that one shattered my pride,

Because I wasn’t the author standing outside.

I didn’t start crying because I was wise,

I cried because Someone removed my disguise.

The Creator didn’t wait for me to be clean,

He built the mess so I’d finally see.

He caused the lack, the fall, the delay,

So the prayer would be real when it found its way.

I thought prayer was words, said right, said well,

But it’s the scream that escapes when the ego fails.

Not spoken by lips, not polished or neat,

But born when desire admits defeat.

And the Ten—God help me, they weren’t the crowd,

They were the mirror that spoke too loud.

Every friend reflected what I wouldn’t face,

Until my prayer lost its personal place.

Because the prayer wasn’t for me, that’s the crime,

It was for us, in this broken time.

For one heart stitched from pieces and scars,

Not asking for comfort—but resemblance to stars.

So who causes the prayer?

Not the mouth, not the mind,

But the One who breaks you with surgical kindness in time.

He pulls every string, every fall, every bend,

Until your heart finally presses Send.

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

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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

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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

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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)

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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.