Learning To Love (With The Ten)

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Learning to Love (With The Ten)

I've traveled the world, and fought with might

I've sailed the seas, searching for light

But through my journeys, filled with plight

Learning to love is what fills my sight

Joining the Ten of courageous men

Who fight to the last of what’s within

Each battle a chance to finally see

The evil nature inside of me

I thought the war was out there to win

With fists, with pride, with borrowed sin

But every road I tried to outrun

Led back to the war I hadn’t begun

The enemy spoke with my own voice

Dressed every demand up as “choice”

He quoted truth to justify theft

And called it faith when nothing was left

In the Ten I broke, in the Ten I fell

Every friend a mirror of hell

Not hell of fire, but self-concern

Where every desire just wants return

Yet there—right there—in the shared despair

A quiet force filled the air

Not power, not pride, not being right

Just hearts agreeing to aim at Light

We lost ourselves, and something grew

A strength no victory ever knew

Not one above, not one below

Just learning how to bestow

Now every fall is a holy sign

Another place to draw the line

Not against the world, the flesh, the sea—

But the rule of self inside of me

I don’t ask to win, I ask to serve

To love where my nature has nerve

If this is the war till my final breath,

Then let it end in love—not death.

Responsibility For The Ten

Responsibility For The Ten

We wake and shower and dress

We say our prayers before looking at the mess

We look at the messages from the ten

And wake up again… and begin

Bills on the table, phone in the hand

Another long day we didn’t plan

The ego screams, “Just take care of you”

But the heart remembers what it’s here to do

The mind wants quiet, comfort, escape

The path wants effort, connection, and faith

I want to run, disappear, pretend

But my soul is tied to the friends

When one is heavy, we all feel the weight

When one is late, we all learn to wait

No one escapes this invisible thread

We rise or we fall by the words that are said

It’s not about strength, wisdom, or skill

It’s showing up when you don’t have the will

A message, a prayer, a simple “I’m here”

Can pull a friend out of darkness and fear

The Creator hides in the space between

My broken heart and the ten unseen

I don’t fix them, I don’t know how

I just choose them—again—right now

Every problem that lands in my day

Is an invitation to relate

Not “Why me?” and not “Make it stop”

But “How do I carry the ten to the top?”

I fall, I forget, I drift, I complain

Then remember—this pain isn’t vain

It sharpens the need, exposes the lie

That I was ever meant to try alone and survive

Responsibility isn’t control or command

It’s holding a friend with an open hand

I cancel a little, I listen some more

And suddenly the heart finds a door

This is the work—no halo, no fame

Just loving the ten through joy and shame

And when I fail, which I surely will

I come back again… because that’s the deal

“Seventy Names, One King”

Title: “Seventy Names, One King”

I didn’t come holy, I came in pieces,

Seventy hungers with crooked leases.

Each one screaming, “I matter first,”

Each one dressed as a blessing or curse.

Chesed gives so it can be seen,

Gevurah cuts like a judgment machine.

Tiferet cries, “Why me again?”

Netzach must win, even over friends.

Hod bows low but keeps the score,

Yesod binds tight just to need you more.

Malchut sits heavy, empty, and loud,

Says, “Fill me now,” with its head unbowed.

I tried to crush them, starve them, deny,

But the ego don’t die — it just learns to lie.

So the work got honest, bitter, and real:

I stopped fixing myself and started to feel.

Each flaw rose up between me and you,

That’s how I knew what the Klipa can do.

Not to destroy me, not to disgrace—

But to beg for a place in the light of His face.

So I gather the mess, the envy, the blame,

All seventy voices, every name.

I don’t clean them — I lift them whole:

“Creator, clothe this will to receive in soul.”

The Path of Truth

The Path of Truth

The point in my heart woke me up one day,

Not with trumpets or fire—just a quiet tug to pray.

I still had bills, flat tires, coffee gone cold,

Kids, work, aches, the same stories retold.

I thought the call meant peace, a softer road,

But life got heavier—I felt the load.

One problem hit, then another right through,

Not to break me apart, but to show what is true.

I lost my temper in traffic, pride at my job,

Got hurt by a word, then hurt back like a slob.

Nothing dramatic, no lightning or flame,

Just ego uncovered, again and again.

Every calamity showed me my face,

How I want to receive, how little I place

The friends before me, the goal before “me,”

How far my heart is from what it should be.

The car breaks down, the money runs thin,

Someone in the ten rubs salt in my skin.

I want to run, to be right, to be free—

And there it is: the real enemy.

Not the boss, not the wife, not fate or the day,

But the voice inside saying, “You come first—always.”

Each fall builds a hunger, a deeper request,

Not for comfort or calm, but to rise above self.

Slowly I learn why the pain shows its face:

To grow my deficiency, widen the space

Where love of the friends can finally sit,

Where the Creator can enter—bit by bit.

I stop asking “Why me?” and start asking “How?”

How do I help the ten, right here, right now?

How do I bow when my ego screams “Stand!”

How do I give with an empty hand?

This path isn’t pretty, it’s dusty and real,

Made of small choices, not flashes of zeal.

But every hard moment, wrapped gently in love,

Pushes my heart toward what’s waiting above.

From the first quiet call to Dvekut so true,

Every blow was a gift meant to shape something new.

This is the truth, simple, steady, and rough—

We’re broken on purpose…

so love is enough.

The Klipa Smiles

Everything is calculated down to the tee

The Klipa won’t let us see

Just what an ass we truly are

About calling on the Creator—instead we see stars

We polish excuses, call ego “insight,”

Mistake imagination for spiritual light

We chase sensations, halos, and signs,

While dodging the work that shatters the spine

We say “I prayed,” but we never got low,

Never begged from the place we refuse to show

We asked for comfort, for peace, for relief,

Not for exposure of rootless belief

The Klipa smiles, says, “You’re doing just fine,”

Feeds us pride dressed up as the Divine

It hates one thing—raw honest lack,

Where a man admits, “I don’t know the track.”

The Creator waits—not in stars or dreams,

But in the crack where the ego screams

When there’s nothing left to hide or pretend,

That’s where the prayer can finally ascend

So yes—it’s measured, weighed, and exact,

Every fall tailored to break the act

Blessed is the blow that kills the lie,

And leaves one request that cannot deny

“Not knowledge. Not light. Not how I feel.

Just give me a heart that wants what’s real.”

Many Are the Afflictions

 Many Are the Afflictions

I tried to walk clean, but the body screamed louder,

Every step toward bestowal made the weight heavier, prouder.

When I worked for myself, the road felt wide and smooth,

But aiming at You lit a fire the ego couldn’t soothe.

Each time I chose truth, the wicked woke up inside,

“What’s this work for you?”—the same old knife in my side.

Day turns to light, and the shadow grows tall,

One mitzvah forward—then I’m split again, half and all.

The evil doesn’t rush me; it’s measured and slow,

Revealed only as much as the good I can show.

You don’t break me at once—you know what I can bear,

You hand me heavier weights because You know I’ll care.

I thought I was failing, the work harder each day,

But You were training my vessels, shaping the way.

The pain was the Kli, the lack was the cry,

No light without hunger, no soul without why.

I begged You to save me, to end this fight,

But You waited for wholeness—left, right, then light.

Not cruelty—precision, not silence—design,

Each prayer stored safely, counted in time.

I wanted peace now, to finally rest,

But You said, “This world too must be dressed.”

Not only bestowal, not only the next,

But even reception corrected, annexed.

So if I suffer, it’s proof I’m in,

You only expose what I’m meant to mend.

Many afflictions—but none are in vain,

You deliver me fully… through every pain.

Praying For The Ten

Praying For The Ten 

Wake up in the morning and say my prayers

Head to the kitchen ’cause my coffee’s there

Sit on the porch in my rocking chair

Praying for the Ten, putting love in the air

Sun coming up, world still quiet

Ego talking loud, but I don’t buy it

Heart feels heavy, mind ain’t clear

So I lean on the friends that I hold dear

Some days strong, some days weak

Some days I fall, can’t even speak

But I remember why I’m not alone

We build one heart from broken stone

I don’t pray for gold, I don’t pray for fame

I pray we stay true through joy and pain

If I lose my way, pull me back again

I live, I breathe, for the Ten