Reason Is The Next Wall

 

Reason Is the Next Wall

I climbed above reason and thought I arrived,

The pain got quieter, my hope felt alive.

The darkness retreated, the doubts took a seat,

I said, “This must be faith,” then faith turned to deceit.

What once was belief became comfort and ground,

The edge disappeared, no danger I found.

My reason got dressed in spiritual clothes,

And stopped me from climbing where real faith goes.

The Creator withdrew, not out of neglect,

But to show me the trap of what I call correct.

What lifted me yesterday, today blocks the way,

And demands I rise higher or honestly pray.

I cannot jump alone, the height is too steep,

My reason screams safety, my ego says sleep.

Only the Ten, pulling hard on my soul,

Can drag me beyond my imagined control.

Again we rise, and again it will fall,

Each new reason turning into the next wall.

Until nothing is left that I call “me,”

And between us appears what they call Dvekut — free.

Between Two Worlds Is Prayer

 

Between Two Worlds Is Prayer

We walk this world with our feet in the dust,

Hearts full of cracks but a stubborn trust.

This state feels heavy, the nights feel long,

Yet something keeps whispering, hold on, stay strong.

We dream of a place where the heart is not torn,

Where love of the friends feels natural, born.

Not clouds or crowns or a heavenly view,

Just hearts stitched together, simple and true.

This world pulls inward, the ego’s demand,

The next pulls outward — take your friend’s hand.

Between the two states, no clever repair,

Only a cry rising up called prayer.

Not prayers of comfort, not prayers for ease,

But prayers to bend where the ego won’t please.

To see my brother as higher than me,

To beg for the strength just to let him be free.

If I fall today, let it be for the Ten,

If I rise tomorrow, let it lift them again.

No world to escape, no future to flee,

Just learning to love — that’s eternity.

When Prayer Can't Pray

 

“When Prayer Can’t Pray”

I came with words, I came with need

I came believing You would lead

I knocked so hard my knuckles bled

And heaven stayed completely dead

My mouth went dry, my heart went cold

The body laughed, you’ve prayed — you’re old

“Look at the years, look at the cost

Every request already lost”

I knew You help, I knew it’s true

But knowing didn’t pull me through

The bitter herb stayed in my throat

I swallowed prayers — they wouldn’t float

Then faith collapsed, not You — just me

No strength to ask, no will to plea

So here I stood, stripped of disguise

With nothing left but empty eyes

And in that place so dark, so bare

I found one thing that still was there

A cry not shaped, a plea undone

“Help me to pray — I have none”

No answer came, no sudden light

Just one more step against my sight

To trust You hear, though I don’t feel

To pray against what looks real

This is the work — not hope that sees

But standing broke upon my knees

When prayer dies and still I stay

That is the faith above the way

Not in the Ten

 

“Not in the Ten”

I sat alone and told myself I’m fine,

Held thoughts a little longer, felt divine.

I watched the mind behave, the heart grow still,

And called it spirit—by my own free will.

But Rav’s voice cut through my clever lie,

“That’s not the soul—just flesh dressed up to fly.”

No matter how refined the feeling seems,

Alone it’s body, not the higher means.

I measured silence, counted breaths and hours,

Admired the ego polishing its powers.

I felt improved, more focused, calm and clean,

But none of it was born between.

For spirit doesn’t live where “I” reside,

It breathes where self-concern has truly died.

Not in my thoughts, not in my private gain,

But where my heart submits to shared pain.

The Ten is not a comfort, club, or tool,

It’s where the ego’s forced to look the fool.

Where I can’t hide behind my inner peace,

Where self-made holiness is brought to cease.

Alone, I choose what effort I’ll allow,

With friends, the truth confronts me now.

Their faces crack my fortress made of thought,

Expose the love I’ve never truly sought.

So if I feel uplifted, calm, or bright,

Yet stand outside the Ten—then Rav is right.

No matter how it dresses, sounds, or glows,

That work is still the body… not the soul.

And now a lack is burning in my chest,

Not for insight—but to rejoin the test.

To lose myself where something real can start,

One heart with many bodies—one man, one heart.

No Where to Run (Cup Full of Lack)

 I knocked on every gate I knew by name

Each one swore light would end the shame

I studied, prayed, I bent my will

Still found my cup was empty still

I trusted verses, plans, and signs

I counted steps, I drew the lines

I followed every rule they gave

Still stood alone beside the grave

I tried belief, it wouldn’t stay

It packed its bags and walked away

I tried despair, it lied to me

Said, “At least now you clearly see”

But clarity just burned my hands

No truth to stand on, no commands

No forward step, no past retreat

Just hollow ground beneath my feet

I begged for help — the words felt fake

My prayer itself began to shake

No warmth, no tears, no holy sound

Just silence pressing all around

I wanted proof You heard my cry

The heavens stayed completely dry

So there I stood with nothing left

Not strong, not broken — only cleft

And in that crack, where nothing fits

Where even hope admits it quits

I stayed — not brave, not pure, not sure

Just stayed… and somehow that was prayer

No faith to claim, no lie to dress

No strength except my helplessness

If You are good — then let it be

Not felt, not seen — just done through me

I bring You not a shining cup

Just all the ways I’ve given up

If this is loss — then take it too

If this is death — then birth me new

Born From The Crack In The Will To Receive

 Born From the Crack

We studied the words, we nodded our head

We thought we were living, but mostly we read

Pages turned clean, yet nothing had changed

Till the Light came quiet and rearranged

The ego stood tall, said “I got this just fine”

Built castles of logic, reason, and time

Then something inside me started to bend

Not wisdom, not answers—just no way to pretend

A crack in the armor, a tremble in will

I wanted connection but couldn’t be still

The heart felt exposed, stripped naked and raw

No speeches, no prayers, no clever Torah

I saw my own distance, my love made of trade

How often I gave just to feel I was paid

The friends looked the same, but I wasn’t the same

Something new stood silent, calling my name

It hurt like a loss, like ground giving way

Like yesterday’s truths couldn’t help me today

But deep in the breaking, a whisper was born

Not from my strength—but where I was torn

This wasn’t a thought I could store on a shelf

It came when I stopped trying to save myself

A need for the Ten, not poetic, not sweet

A hunger no ego could package or beat

And that’s how it happens, no fireworks loud

No badge of honor, no spiritual crown

Just a new little vessel, fragile and real

Born where I failed—and started to feel

So don’t fear the darkness, the stumble, the fall

That’s where the Creator reshapes it all

Every true change leaves reason in lack

An innovation… born from the crack

The Soul Knows Before The Mind

 

The Soul Knows Before the Mind

We open the book and the words feel dry,

Ten Sefirot speaking way up in the sky.

My mind starts barking, “You don’t belong,”

“You don’t get a thing—move along.”

But the work never asked for clever or smart,

It asked for a grip with a trembling heart.

Not grasping the map, not seeing the road,

Just standing still where the Light is bestowed.

The ego screams loud, “You’re wasting your time,”

“These worlds make no sense, these lines don’t rhyme.”

But the soul stays quiet, steady, and sure,

Drinking what reason could never secure.

Fear says, “If you don’t get it, you’re lost,”

Faith says, “Sit still—this growth has a cost.”

Not coins, not pride, not intellectual gain,

But the burning surrender of not having a name.

Each word hits places I cannot define,

Not entering thought, but carving the spine.

Something is moving, aligning inside,

While reason stands helpless, stripped of its pride.

The system is faithful, exact, and alive,

It feeds what the soul needs—not what I derive.

So I shut up the judge, the critic, the thief,

And stay in the room with a thread of belief.

Understanding comes later—after the break,

After the ego’s no longer awake.

First comes the Light, unseen but precise,

Then comes the knowing—paid for in price.

So I listen, confused, yet rooted and still,

Not chasing a concept, but bowing my will.

Because growth isn’t proof, and truth isn’t loud—

The soul learns best when the mind isn’t proud.