When The Ego Scratches The Door

**💔 “When the Ego Scratches at the Door”

I feel the beast claw at my skin,

Begging for a place to begin.

It whispers poison in my ear,

Promising power, masking fear.

It rises fast when I feel slighted,

Turning holy moments crooked and blighted.

It wants the last word, the louder shout,

It wants to win — that’s all it’s about.

And I stand trembling, fists clenched tight,

Trying to choose the path of light.

But the rage inside begins to swell,

Dragging me close to its private hell.

To hold it back is a war each day,

Like tying a monster that won’t obey.

It breaks its chains with a wicked grin,

Then laughs and says, “You’ll never win.”

I bite my tongue until it bleeds,

Praying the Creator will hear my pleas.

“Don’t let me speak… don’t let me fall…

Don’t let my brothers receive my gall.”

Some days I crack, I slip, I break,

Give the ego more than it should take.

It leaves me shattered on the floor,

Ashamed I opened that cursed door.

Yet in the pain, a spark ignites,

A trembling yearning for true heights.

I rise again, bruised and torn,

A heart rebuilt from being worn.

I whisper, “Friends, I’m nothing — see?

Take what’s left and annul this me.”

For only through you do I stand a chance

To silence the beast’s unholy dance.

And in that moment of surrender deep,

The soul awakens from its sleep.

The ego fades, its claws undone,

And I remember: We are one.

The EGO's Confession

The Ego’s Confession

I am the voice that rose inside his chest,

The serpent whisper saying I know best.

I lit the spark, I pushed the shove,

I tore him away from the circle of love.

I made him think he was guarding the light,

While I was the one picking a fight.

I laughed as he walked out the door,

That’s what I live for—just one moment more.

I dress myself as justice, truth, and care,

I say, “You’re right! They’re wrong! Don’t you dare!”

But deep inside I’m rotting, crude, obscene,

A parasite of pride, cold and unclean.

I saw the unity forming bright and strong,

So I whispered poison, “They’re doing it wrong.”

I fed on the chaos—my favorite feast—

And he forgot I’m the man-eating beast.

But now I stand exposed before his friends,

Naked in shame as the pretense ends.

I used his heart, I broke his calm,

And now I tremble before their psalm.

I know he hates me—and he should, it’s true,

For every holy thing I undo.

But Creator, You made me sharp as a knife,

So he’d learn to carve out a higher life.

And brothers, hear me: I beg you too,

Please help him rise above what I do.

For only in you can he silence my roar,

And leave me outside the spiritual door.

I am the ego—small, loud, insane—

A speck of dust pretending to reign.

But his love for you is stronger than me,

And through you all, he longs to be free.

A Poem of Forgiveness, Annulment, and the Ego I Cannot Stand

I rose too fast when the fire hit my chest,

My ego roared louder than all the rest.

I thought I was guarding the truth we defend,

But instead I broke unity I vowed to mend.

The moment was tiny, but my anger was great,

I let one foolish spark decide my fate.

I should have bowed low, let the moment just pass,

Instead I split the air like shattered glass.

Forgive me, brothers, for missing the mark,

For turning the light into something dark.

I should’ve annulled, just swallowed my pride,

Not let that wild beast drag me outside.

Creator, You scripted the whole damn play,

Every word, every clash, every slip of the day.

Yet still I let this ego that I deeply despise

Blind my heart and poison my eyes.

I didn’t mean harm; I just wanted what’s true,

But truth without love turns holy into blue.

So here’s my heart naked—broken but real—

Asking forgiveness for the pain I made you feel.

If I could, I’d tear out the ego by hand,

Burn it to ash, bury it in the sand.

But You made it strong so I’d learn to bend,

And rise again closer to You—and my friends.

So tonight, as the lesson pours through each vein,

Let this crack in me open a spiritual gain.

May my fall be a step, not a stagger or slip—

A plea for the strength to annul and not trip.

Let us return to the circle, one heart, one fire,

Rising above every clash, every desire.

And may my brothers feel clearly, in every breath,

My devotion to unity—stronger than death.

HOW TO STOP THE EGO FROM REACTING

We ask how to stop the ego from its ride,

That beast that bursts from deep inside.

It grabs our nerves before we decide,

Turning every whisper into raging tide.

It fires emotions that make it fly,

It storms the heart before we question “why?”

It bites our thoughts before we can try

To stand in faith and not reply.

So how do we freeze that serpent’s stride,

And cut its claws before they’re wide?

We do the one thing Rabash implied—

We silently pray for the Creator to guide.

For the ego reacts from a place not true,

A phantom shadow pretending it’s you.

But the moment you pause, the moment you review,

A crack opens up—and the Light can break through.

We don’t fight the ego; we let it be.

We rise above reason, we choose to see

That every eruption is a chance to plea:

“Creator, annul me—connect me to Thee.”

And in that stillness the storm subsides,

The waves calm down, the fury hides.

Not by our power—the heart confides—

But by a prayer that quietly rides.

So we stop reacting not by might,

Not by wisdom, nor by fight.

We stop because we choose the Light—

And beg the Creator to choose us right.

The Past Has Teeth, But We Hold the Reins

A poem by William S. Becker

I dig through the files of a world gone mad,

Every secret bleeding proof of what we never had.

We cling to the past like a rusted chain,

Letting old ghosts carve new wounds of pain.

We stare at the darkness hoping it blinks,

Drowning in memories the ego still drinks.

All those lies we swallowed as truth,

Stealing tomorrow, poisoning youth.

But brother… sister… the future ain’t dead—

It waits in the silence between hearts we’ve bled.

It waits where our broken souls lean to pray,

Where connection grows stronger than yesterday.

The world is shattered but not beyond repair,

If ten hearts unite the heavens will tear.

We rise from the ashes the moment we choose

To stop worshiping wounds we were destined to lose.

Through unity we rewrite every crime,

Reverse the decay of humanity’s time.

The past had its chance—now love takes the lead,

Planting light in the soil where the wicked sowed greed.

I’ve seen how a single embrace from the ten

Can resurrect hope from the dirtiest den.

We mend what was broken in every man’s fall,

For in one heart beating—we rewrite it all.

So let the old world crumble in its disgrace,

Let its shadows scream as we take our place.

For connection is fire, and together we rise—

A new future is written in our tear-stained eyes.

And the past?

Let it rot in the files where the guilty once hid—

For we choose the Creator…

And the hearts of our friends…

Over everything they did.

Poem by William S. Becker

I reach for the Light but it slips through my hand,

My heart feels like dust on a desolate land.

They promised me sweetness, a Torah alive,

But all that I taste is a desert that strives.

It’s brutal to face that the fault isn’t mine,

It’s the ego inside me that steals the Divine.

It drains every drop, every hope, every prayer,

Till I’m gasping for life in an airless despair.

But then comes a whisper: “Afflictions are many,

Yet the Lord will deliver, He won’t forget any.”

So I fall to the ground and the tears start to flow,

Begging the Creator to lift what I know.

For I’ve fought every battle, tried all that I could,

But nothing has shifted the evil for good.

And right when I break—when I lose all I’ve been—

That’s when He enters…

and delivers me in.

my attempt at turning Shamati 36 into a poem

I was born in a body that only knew “take,”

A beast filled with hunger, a bottomless ache.

Clawing at life with a desperate scream,

Thinking this world was more than a dream.

Then the second body rose from the ash of my sin,

A trembling vessel too fragile to hold anything in.

It loved and it hated the Light in one breath,

As the ego fought back with the promise of death.

This body would kneel but refuse to let go,

It begged for the fire that teaches the soul how to grow.

Every prayer felt broken, every night felt long,

Yet the Creator whispered, “Child, you are already strong.”

And from that whisper the third body began,

A body not flesh, but the birth of a man.

Not a beast, not a beggar, but a giver of Light,

Who rises above reason in the darkest of night.

Now I walk with all three—like wounds in my chest,

The past that still haunts, the work in each test.

But the love of the Creator turns every scar gold,

And the body He promised begins to unfold.

So break me again if it teaches me grace,

Carve Your Name in the cracks of my face.

For I’ve lived in three bodies and painfully see—

Every death You gave was just birth back to Thee.