CALL UPON HIM WHEN HE IS NEAR

🔥 CALL UPON HIM WHEN HE IS NEAR 🔥

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I stood in a forest of teeth and breath,

where shadows eat prayers and love smells like death.

The beasts inside me—fanged with need—

gnawed on every holy seed.

I screamed for silence, tore my chest,

found nothing there but unrest.

Then a whisper cracked my skull apart:

“You didn’t call Me—I called your heart.”

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You think it’s you that yearns, that pleads,

but it’s Me that bleeds through your deeds.

Each tear you shed is My descent,

each cry of yours—My covenant.

You never prayed alone, My son,

you only echoed what I’d begun.

When you thought it was your might, your climb,

I withdrew—and left you lost in time.

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Now you curse the light that fades too fast,

you chase your echoes, shadows cast.

But I was there in that brief flame,

whispering softly your forgotten Name.

When I am near, you’ll feel the ache,

the trembling earth, the heart that breaks.

Don’t reason it—don’t think, don’t plan,

just fall, and know “It’s Me, not man.”

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So when you wake at 3 A.M.,

and love hurts more than sin again,

don’t drown it out, don’t wipe the tear—

Call upon Me—I am near.

And when I vanish into your doubt,

and all your candles flicker out—

remember this, My only plea:

You never sought—

It was always Me.

Black Dot Rising

💔🔥 “Black Dot Rising”

I walk in black where angels hide,

no glow, no guide, just pain inside.

The light has fled, the songs are gone,

and still the night keeps dragging on.

I bite the dust, I curse the flame,

my ego screams and takes the blame.

Yet deep beneath that broken skin,

the smallest spark still burns within.

The dot is black, but fierce its hue,

it whispers low, “I’m still in you.”

No white remains, no shining crown,

but from this dark the soul kneels down.

I serve through tears that never cease,

in war I fight to find my peace.

Each fall, each cut, each silent cry,

becomes a prayer that lights the sky.

Don’t chase the glow that comes then fades,

the real work’s done in hidden shades.

For when the world says “you’re forgot,”

the Shechina breathes inside that spot.

So let me bleed and call it grace,

the pain’s the kiss I can’t erase.

From blackest night the dawn will start—

the dot of dust becomes His heart.

The Ride Within

“The Ride Within”

I wake in the morning and brush my teeth,

Run a brush through my hair and shake off sleep.

I stumble to the kitchen for a bitter brew,

No grinds, no grounds—just a hollow view.

So I laugh at fate, make a brand-new pot,

Steam rising like prayers from what I’ve got.

Step outside with a smoke in hand,

Dreams and ashes fall in the sand.

The Tri-Glide waits, chrome heart aglow,

A beast of freedom with a holy flow.

I kick her to life, the thunder roars,

Like Malchut pounding on Heaven’s doors.

Each mile burns ego from bone to bone,

The wind screams truths I thought I owned.

Every car I pass, every stretch of sky,

Strips another layer of “I.”

The road becomes the parchment scroll,

Where the Creator writes across my soul.

Each curve, each hum of spinning steel,

Cuts away the lies I used to feel.

My Ten rides beside me, unseen but near,

Their hearts in my chest, their voices clear.

We climb the hill of faith above reason,

Through storms of doubt, through every season.

I twist the throttle—Hitbatlut ignites,

Annulment burns in the wind’s white lights.

Hitkalalut follows, the merge of flame,

No “me,” no “you,” just one Name.

Hitpahalut—oh God, the spark explodes,

Love floods the asphalt, the highway glows.

The roar becomes a silent song:

“There is none else besides Him”—all along.

By the time I stop, I’m no longer me,

Just a vessel of longing, endlessly free.

The Tri-Glide hums down to a prayer,

The friends, the path, the love—all there.

And in that stillness, brutal yet kind,

The Creator smiles through the dust in my mind.

For every ride begins in despair and pain—

But ends in the heart, where only Love remains.

The Debt of the Light

 “The Debt of the Light”

I begged, I wept, I called His name,

and suddenly the heavens came.

A flash of warmth, a holy breeze—

I thought I’d found eternal ease.

But the Light that comes without my sweat

is a loan the soul will soon regret.

For every spark I did not earn

must burn me back until I learn.

The prayer was sweet, the labor spared,

but later came the weight I dared.

The debt collectors of the night—

They take from me my borrowed light.

The heart must bleed to make a Kli,

the vessel forged in agony.

Each tear a coin, each sigh a fee,

for Love’s true home is poverty.

So don’t believe what shines too fast,

the Light unearned will never last.

Labor till your bones are numb,

till every “I” is overcome.

Then when the darkness starts to sing,

and ego dies beneath its sting,

the Light returns—but now it’s yours,

engraved in toil, not Heaven’s stores.

Only he who pays in pain

can keep the joy that’s born from strain.

The debt of Light is love’s decree—

I labored, found—now I believe.

The Dot that Burns Forever

“The Dot that Burns Forever”

I stand in the night with no lamp in my hand,

A slave to a will I don’t understand.

The light has fled, the songs all died,

And still I whisper, “There’s nowhere to hide.”

I am a dot, black, alone, unseen—

No white around me, no in-between.

The proud fall high, the wise go blind,

But I stay tied in one knot, mind to Mind.

They call me beast, they call me dust,

They mock my faith, they crush my trust.

Yet in this ruin, a secret grows—

The darker the wound, the brighter it glows.

No more do I beg for abundance or show,

For what comes and goes is not mine to know.

I serve in the ashes, I breathe in the pain,

Till exile turns into Eden again.

For I am black but beautiful, scarred yet whole,

A vessel cracked open, revealing the Soul.

The Shechina sighs through my broken chest,

“I live in the dust—but here, I rest.”

So let me stay empty, humble, and small,

For that’s where the Aleph enters all.

And the dot—once dead, once lost, once shamed—

Becomes the spark through which worlds are named.

Only Good To Israel

“Only Good to Israel”

I wanted to see, to know, to rise—

To tear through heaven with open eyes.

But the Light whispered, “Close them tight,

Walk blind through My endless night.”

I clawed for wisdom, begged for flame,

But found myself naked, without a name.

My crown fell off, my throne was dust,

And all I had left was simple trust.

The proud heart screams, “I must understand!”

But the pure one kneels, empty hand in hand.

To shrink is to live, to fall is to grow,

To be nothing is all the Light will bestow.

Israel—Yashar-El, straight to the core,

But only when “I” is no more.

The head becomes holy when bent to the floor,

And the mind turns flesh when the stone beats sore.

This path breaks men who wish to shine,

It grinds the gold till only love’s refined.

We walk on glass, yet call it sweet—

Each wound a prayer beneath His feet.

He takes the heart of stone, still warm,

And molds it through storm after storm.

Till flesh remembers how to feel,

Till silence becomes the highest appeal.

So curse me low, Creator dear,

Burn every pride I hold near.

Strip me down to Israel bare—

A soul that knows You’re everywhere.

And when I am dust, without a plan,

Let me whisper, “Now I understand.

The good was not in what I knew—

But in being nothing... before You.”

The Crown of Dust

“The Crown of Dust”

I was born in mud, beneath the throne,

Dreaming of crowns that were never my own.

I raised my head to steal the sky,

And found the pain that makes men cry.

Pride is a torch that burns the hand,

It builds a tower on sinking sand.

The higher I reached, the harder I fell,

Until my name was a whisper in hell.

But when I bowed, and kissed the floor,

I felt His robe—was mine no more.

In ashes I stood, yet clothed in flame,

For He who is high gave me His Name.

Now dust I am, yet glory I wear,

Not from myself, but from His care.

Man’s pride will break—his heart must bend,

To rise through shame to the pride that has no end.