Poem 1 combination of shamati and psalms in poem form

Shamati 1 – There Is None Else Besides Him

Psalm 23 – The Lord Is My Shepherd

When shadows fall and fear takes hold,

My ego whispers tales of old.

Yet in the dark, one truth I find,

No power but His shapes my mind.

He leads me down the valley deep,

Through tears I sow, through nights I weep.

Beside still waters, I hear His call,

“There is none else,” He rules it all.

The rod, the staff, they break my pride,

They wound my heart yet guard my side.

In the Ten, His table’s spread,

From bitter doubts to faith I’m fed.

Even when death’s shadow is near,

I find the Shepherd’s hand sincere.

No force but His — so I confess,

“There is none else,” my soul finds rest.

The Accuser's Dance

“The Accuser’s Dance”

It drags me low, whispers of gain,

My heart is torn by hunger and pain.

I fight alone, but always lose,

The serpent laughs at the paths I choose.

It rises high to the throne above,

Accusing me, denying love.

“You see?” it cries, “He cannot stand,

He builds on dust, not on holy land.”

I break, I fall, I cannot pretend,

Without my brothers there is no end.

But in the Ten, a spark ignites,

Together we wrestle the endless night.

First comes Hitbatlut—I bow my head,

My pride dissolves, my self is dead.

Then Hitkalelut—I weave with friends,

Their voices heal, the fracture mends.

And Hitpa’alut—their fire burns,

From their devotion, my soul returns.

The accuser flees, the cry takes flight,

A prayer is born in the heart’s twilight.

Now rise, my friends, as one we call,

Creator hears the plea of all.

From descent to ascent, the secret’s clear:

Through unity alone, the Light draws near.

The Three H’s in My Heart

The Three H’s in My Heart

In the silence I bow, my will undone,

Hitbatlut whispers: “You are none.”

I break on the stones of my stubborn pride,

The tears are rivers where I hide.

Yet in the Ten, a spark takes flight,

Hitkalalut blends my dark with light.

Inclusion burns, both wound and balm,

Their voices storm, then bring me calm.

But oh, the cries that tear my soul,

Faith demands I pay the toll.

Love is forged in suffering’s flame,

I lose myself to find His Name.

Hitpa’alut—enliven me still!

Through endless nights, a trembling will.

Pain is holy, faith is fire,

In this love, I rise higher.

So let me die a thousand ways,

And live anew through endless days.

In three H’s my spirit bends—

The path of sorrow that never ends.

Yet in that breaking, hearts are one,

A prayer complete, His will is done.

When Ego Yields

As I ready to lay my head at night,

I’m filled with visions of love and fright,

Not knowing whether to run and hide,

Or face the ego’s horrific pride.

I set my intention to only bestow,

It’s not about what you think you know

It’s how to turn all that wrath,

Into the steps of  faith’s path.

Through shadows deep my spirit bends,

Where brokenness secretly mends,

Each tear a prayer, each sigh a song,

That lifts me to where I belong.

So let me rise above despair,

With every breath, a whispered prayer,

Till all the night is bathed in light,

And ego yields to love’s true might.

The Storm and the Kiss

The Storm and the Kiss

I lit a candle, small and weak,

The storm just laughed: “That’s not what you seek.”

It blew it out with a wicked grin,

“Come closer, fool, the game begins.”

---

My lust stood tall with hungry eyes,

Promising flesh, forgetting skies.

It whispered hot, “Forget His name,

There’s sweeter fire, there’s easier flame.”

But pain arrived, a faithful thief,

It robbed my rest, it tore belief.

Still, in the wound, a voice was near,

“Through broken bones, My Light appears.”

---

Suffering dressed in bridal white,

Danced with me deep into the night.

A kiss of salt, a whip of flame,

Yet every lash still cried Your name.

---

And humor came, drunk clown of fate,

He tripped me hard at heaven’s gate.

I cursed, I laughed, the angels cheered,

The demons bowed, the storm grew weird.

---

Creator, You sly comedian, You,

You wound with left, then heal with blue.

You tempt, You trick, You strike, You shove,

Yet all is stitched with secret love.

---

For though I fall, I still adore,

The lips that wound, the hands that war.

The thunder breaks, the lightning burns,

But in its eye—Your mercy turns.

---

So storm me, bind me, mock my cry,

I’ll love You still until I die.

Through lust and laughter, pain and shame,

My soul is Yours, through fire, through flame.

And when I drown, or rise above,

I’ll storm with You, my storm of love.

The Ten as Sefirot

Ten friends together, one circle of flame,

Each shines a facet, though none are the same.

One gives with kindness, another with might,

Together they weave the Creator’s Light.

Alone we are fragments, confused and apart,

But joined we discover one vessel, one heart.

Like colors refracting through sapphire’s face,

We fashion a prism for infinite grace.

At times I am Hod, in silence I bend,

At times I am Netzach, determined to end.

Another is Tiferet, harmonies blend,

Malchut receives all that upward we send.

No friend is complete in the work on his own,

But each is a Sefira, a spark that is sown.

And when we unite with no self in between,

The Light of the Infinite fills us unseen.

So bind us together, O Father above,

Correct us through mercy, through strength, and through love.

Let ten become one, as Your wisdom has taught,

A soul made of Sefirot, living and wrought.

The Hidden Script

Ancient names carved in clay and stone,

Anunnaki, angels—forces unknown.

Were they beings, or codes in disguise,

Programs of will in the Creator’s eyes?

They whisper through myths, through temples and scrolls,

Of life once vast, of unmeasured souls.

Yet sages declare with a steady hand,

It’s not gods of earth, but the One command.

Our bodies hold letters, a silent song,

DNA scripts that sleep for long.

Experts call it “junk,” yet others say,

It hides our powers, locked away.

But no hand of Thoth, nor science’s key,

Can force the gates of eternity.

For these strands awaken when hearts align,

In love of another, the light will shine.

Kinetic gifts, a prophetic sight,

Are sparks revealed in the upper light.

Not tricks for the self, but tools to restore,

The bond of the soul to its root once more.

So seek not the gods of forgotten lands,

But gather your brothers, join hands.

For only in love, the sages say clear,

The dormant awakens, the angels appear.