Strong In my Ego Weak in My Hands

“Strong in My Ego, Weak in My Hands”

I said I wanted You,

but I wanted me more.

Said “all for Heaven,”

counted receipts on the floor.

I talked about love,

while stepping on friends,

Called it “discernment,”

hid knives in the ends.

I read all the books,

quoted line after line,

But my heart stayed closed,

said “later,” not “mine.”

I wanted bestowal

as an upgrade, a perk,

A ribbon on ego,

not death to my work.

Then You broke my legs

right under my pride,

Let Pharaoh laugh

while I swallowed the lie.

I pushed.

I prayed.

I worked till I bled.

And somehow I sank

even deeper instead.

Every good deed

reeked of reward,

Every prayer

had me at the core.

Friends looked like mirrors

I couldn’t stand,

Each one exposing

the rot in my hand.

That’s when I learned

what “weak” really means—

Not tired muscles,

but shattered routines.

Weak is when love

is no longer a choice,

When without You

there is no inner voice.

Weak is when life

feels colder than death,

When Kedusha won’t enter

the lungs of your breath.

And strong—

Strong was my ego,

my logic, my plan,

Strong was my mouth

saying “I understand.”

So You did the miracle

no hero survives:

You handed my strength

to the weak in my life.

You let the few cries

break the many excuses,

Let purity win

where knowledge abuses.

You showed me my sin

with surgical care,

Not to crush me—

to prove You were there.

Now I don’t ask for luxury,

titles, or light—

Just don’t let me live

without You in sight.

If bestowal doesn’t come

I am already dead,

So take this heart,

break it—

and make it instead.

No Spies IN The Market

NO SPIES IN THE MARKET

I walk out whole from a private gate,

One King inside—no room for debate.

But step in the market, the noise comes fast,

Spies clock my future, audit my past.

They whisper, “What’s in it? Why give it away?”

They tally my loss at the end of the day.

They quote me truth but poison the aim,

Dress ego in logic, call fear by my name.

They spy on the heart like merchants of war,

Measure the Light like it’s bought in a store.

“Where’s the feeling? The proof? The sign?”

They sell me delay and call it divine.

Hanukkah comes with a jar cracked thin,

No taste, no thrill, no guaranteed win.

Just oil enough for a stubborn stand,

Faith above reason—match in my hand.

I light it outside where the market roars,

Where ego trades futures and locks the doors.

Not to feel holy, smart, or correct—

But to burn one thought that demands respect.

The spy screams loud, “This makes no sense!”

I don’t argue back—I don’t mount defense.

I light and I act without asking why,

And the spy goes hungry—no deal to buy.

The market stays loud, the legs still shake,

Desire still wants what it thinks I should take.

But one small flame with no demand to win

Turns spies into silence—no place to sit in.

No spies in the Light, no wage to claim,

No Sitra Achra where love won’t bargain its name.

Just friends in the dark, oil running low,

And a flame that says, “Bestow—then go.”

The Split That Prays

The Split That Prays

by William S. Becker

As the lesson starts, it begins,

My heart splits clean into two within.

One side says, Focus—do not stray,

The other whispers, Today’s the day.

The prayer will rise, the Creator hears,

My chest collapses into tears.

Tears for the will that only takes,

For every spark the ego breaks.

One side counts comfort, time, and gain,

Coffee, body, ease, and pain.

That’s the will to receive, loud and wise,

Selling lies that dress as truth in disguise.

The other side is small and thin,

A silent knock from deep within.

No logic there, no proof, no chart,

Just hunger—that’s the point in heart.

The will attacks when prayer is near,

Floods the mind with doubt and fear.

Why these friends? Why this path?

Look at your past—look at the math.

The heart can’t hold both at once,

It breaks beneath competing wants.

But in the break a cry is made,

Not to receive—but to be saved.

No strength to win. No way alone.

Just a plea to be overthrown.

And that small cry, broken and true,

Cuts out a space for Light to move through.

The will still stands, armed and fed,

But the point is no longer dead.

Between them both, a line appears—

Not perfection—just choice through tears.

So lesson by lesson, day by day,

I fall, I beg, I’m shown the way.

Not by crushing the will to receive,

But choosing the point I believe.

So I don’t curse the split inside,

Where ego and the spark collide.

I thank the break, the tears, the wrong—

They push my heart where I belong.

Not clean. Not whole.

But turned above—

Held by the Ten,

Wrapped in Love.

The Shade I Chose

“THE SHADE I CHOSE”

I sat in the shadow and wanted to run,

No warmth on my skin, no sight of the sun.

Every step felt heavy, prayers tasted like sand,

Still You placed this darkness right into my hands.

I cursed the concealment, the silence, the strain,

Thought distance meant failure, thought numbness meant pain.

Then a crack in the heart let the truth push through—

These shadows are tools You’re working me through.

Not punishment, not exile, not some cruel test,

But room for bestowal when reason says “rest.”

You hid Your face so I’d stop working for me,

So I’d choose You with nothing—no taste, no fee.

I don’t ask for the shade to hurry and flee,

I see now the work is exactly this key.

To serve while You’re hidden, to give while I’m blind,

To trust that Your pleasure is built in this grind.

No shame in the darkness, no insult in lack,

If You want my heart here, then I won’t step back.

Sweet fruit grows deeper where the light can’t be seen,

I sit in Your shadow and crown You as King.

Lower Than The Dust

“LOWER THAN THE DUST”

I signed my name in silence with a heart that couldn’t see,

No lights, no taste, no warmth—just chains wrapped around me.

I told the King, “I’m Yours,” with nothing felt inside,

No proof, no thrill, no vision—just ego crucified.

No paycheck from the heavens, no comfort in the bones,

Just dragging dead desire through unanswered phones.

Still I bowed without conditions, didn’t barter, didn’t plead,

If this is what You want from me—then grind me down indeed.

I work like I’m rewarded though I feel no spark,

I sing like I’ve got daylight while I’m choking in the dark.

I move like I have faith while my hands are full of doubt,

That’s surrender—no escape hatch, no way out.

Put me in the dirt, Lord, face down in the clay,

Lower than the questions that keep screaming every day.

If earth’s the lowest station, then here I choose to stand,

’Cause nothing can be taken from a fully broken man.

No falling from a place where I already gave it all,

No pride left to defend me when the structures fall.

A generation rises, another one decays,

But the earth just keeps on holding all our blood and prayers.

So plant me in the dust where sons and daughters grow,

From unconditional service seeds of fire will show.

I don’t serve for the feeling, the sweetness, or the gain—

I serve because You’re King, even buried in the pain.

“I Rise Because I Die in You”

 I rise because I die in you, the friends who break my pride,

The ones who tear my walls apart till nothing’s left to hide.

For the death of self is freedom when the heart is split in two,

And the ashes of my ego feed the love that carries you.

I rise because I die in you, in the fire that you ignite,

Where the soul is forged in brotherhood and tempered by the Light.

For the man I was is buried in the grave of who I knew—

But the man I am is living in the life I share with you.

I rise because I die in you, in the rhythm of the roar,

In the beat of ten hearts pounding like a resurrected war.

In the boogie of surrender where the broken become new—

For the King Himself comes rising when I die inside of you.

So let the song be thunder, let the joy come tearing through—

For a man is born eternal when he dies in love with you.

“Love Is the Only Road Home”

 Love is the only road home when the heart’s too tired to fight,

When the ego’s last resistance fades beneath the dawning Light.

For the miles I ran in darkness couldn’t hide me from the truth—

That the path I feared the most was the one that led to You.

Love is the only road home when the Ten becomes my guide,

When their prayers become the compass cutting through my foolish pride.

For repentance ain’t a burden — it’s the joy of being known,

And the friends who never left me pave the way that leads me home.

Love is the only road home when the King reveals His face,

When the fire of His mercy melts the wounds I tried to chase.

Every tear becomes a diamond, every cry becomes a tone,

Singing loud across creation: “Love is still the only home.”

So let my feet keep dancing as the boogie shakes my bones—

For the heart that learns to love has finally found its road back home.