Give It Away

“Give It Away”

I remember You before I had a name

Before this dust, before this shame

A whisper carved inside my chest

A love I knew, then lost, then left

You filled me whole, no crack, no seam

No “I” or “You,” just One unseen

Then something shattered deep inside

And I woke up alone… alive

This world—an abyss, cold and wide

Where memory burns but won’t subside

I walk with sparks I cannot claim

Reshimot screaming Your old name

I reach for You in every face

But find the lack, not Your embrace

The more I take, the more I break

The more I beg, the less I make

I curse the fall, I curse the day

I curse this heart that won’t obey

Yet even rage is stitched with pain

Because loss proves love once reigned

You hid Yourself so I could see

What love costs when it’s not free

You broke me not to watch me crawl

But so I’d learn to love through all

Now hear me from this shattered place

I don’t ask back what time erased

I don’t demand You fill my cup

I’ve learned—love rises when I give it up

So I take this ache, this holy scar

And offer it just as we are

To every soul I once was part

To every broken, missing heart

If there’s something I want to know

Something I want to feel and grow

Like that old Texas truth I found—

You give it away… or it won’t come around

So take my love, Creator mine

Not upward—sideways, friend to friend

Let it pass through these hands of dust

Until all fragments trust again

And when the last lost spark feels whole

And love flows back without control

We won’t say “You” and “me” apart—

Just One… remembering the heart

Satisfied With What You Gave

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“Satisfied With What You Gave”

I wanted peace, I wanted ease

I wanted pain to finally freeze

But every prayer I thought was clean

Was hiding deals I’d never seen

I said “Unite us, nothing more”

But still I knocked on ego’s door

It hates to ache, it hates to stay

It twists the truth to run away

Hindi (quiet, aching):

Jo mila hai, wahi kaafi hai

(What I’ve been given is enough)

Turkish (firm, grounded):

Verdiğin hâl yeter bana

(The state You gave is enough for me)

The will to receive don’t want to die

It just don’t want to suffer, cry

It dresses need in holy clothes

And calls escape “the path I chose”

Florida whispered in my ear

“Go there, you’ll breathe, the pain will clear”

But underneath that sacred plea

Was fear pretending faith in me

Hindi (confession):

Dard se bhaagna bhakti nahi

(Running from pain is not devotion)

Turkish (exposure):

Acıdan kaçmak, ihsan değil

(Escaping pain is not bestowal)

So here I stand with empty hands

No bargains left, no backup plans

If this is lack, then let it burn

I don’t demand, I only turn

Unite us — not to feel okay

Unite us — even if I stay

Right in the pressure, no relief

Make truth my joy, not stolen belief

Hindi (surrender):

Jo tu chaahe, wahi chaah

(What You want, let that be my want)

Turkish (adhesion):

İstediğin, benim isteğim olsun

(Let Your desire become my desire)

Between the friends, not in my skin

That’s where the Light must enter in

Correct the space, not how I feel

Make us as one — that’s what is real

The Torah That Didn't Fix Me

 

“The Torah That Didn’t Fix Me”

I learned Your words like iron and stone,

But kept my throne—still all my own.

I stacked up pages, proud and sure,

Yet stayed the same—unclean, impure.

I wore the verses like a crown,

While secret dust still dragged me down.

I called it “study,” called it “light,”

But dodged the war inside the night.

Because the truth is hard to bear:

My heart wants payment, not to care.

It wants a God who serves my plan,

A holy stamp for selfish man.

So when You hid, I took offense,

Like I deserved a recompense.

My mouth turned Pharaoh—Peh Ra grin,

And holy words became my sin.

Then came the crack—no place to run,

No taste in gold, no warmth in sun.

I saw my Torah had a cost:

Without the work, the Light is lost.

So here’s my plea—no clever art:

Don’t feed my brain—reform my heart.

Take this dust and raise it high,

Make bestowal my battle-cry.

Let me bless the goal before I read,

Not for applause—but to be freed.

Let Torah be Your clothing near,

And let me find the Wearer here.

Make me “poor” till I truly crave,

Till every prayer becomes a wave.

Penny by penny, join my cries,

Till faith is born behind my eyes.

And when You give—don’t let me steal

Back into self, back into deal.

Make me a guest who loves the Host,

Receiving You—forgetting “most.”

Break me clean, then build me true,

Not “what I get,” but what I do:

To serve the Ten, to serve the Name—

Till Torah, Israel, and You are the same.

The Bessel Between Us

“The Vessel Between Us”

We must be concerned with the greatness of the goal,

For alone I remain only a point, not a soul.

A heart of stone beats silent inside of me,

A desire untouched, not meant to be free.

That stone is not mine to correct or refine,

No prayer or effort can soften that line.

It stands as a boundary, sealed and tight,

A place where the creature cannot invite Light.

But six hundred thousand desires stand near,

Not buried in me, but living in the friends here.

Their lacks are scattered, their needs are not small,

And my work is to gather them—one and all.

I do not fix myself, I do not repair,

I connect to the friends and carry their care.

I clothe their deficiencies deep in my chest,

As though their desire were my own test.

This inclusion, this bond, this pull to unite,

Is the vessel formed only through mutual sight.

Not in my feeling, not in my mind,

But in the space where our hearts intertwine.

“Love your friend as yourself” is not advice,

Not ethics or warmth or human device.

It is the great rule, exact and precise,

Because only there is the sacrifice.

For the Creator is not found in me,

Nor revealed where one stands separately.

He dwells in the bond we build and sustain,

Between us alone does His presence remain.

The Freedom

 

The Freedom

(after Baal HaSulam)

I thought I chose the road I stand upon

Thought I woke myself each rising dawn

Thought my thoughts were mine to steer and bend

Thought freedom lived where wants defend

But look closer—nothing here was picked

Not the hunger, not the way I’m ticked

Not the fears that jump before my mind

Not the urges dragging me behind

I did not choose my parents or my blood

The tongue I speak, the land, the mud

I did not choose my traits or tone

Nor what I love or hate alone

Even rebellion wears a borrowed face

Even my fight came pre-installed in place

I rage, I swear, I break the mold

But every move was bought and sold

The books I read, the songs I hear

The values I hold close and dear

The crowd I trust, the rules I bend

They write my steps before they end

I chase desire dressed as choice

But hear closely—that’s not my voice

It’s habit dressed in clever skin

Old commands whispering within

I want to choose—I swear I do

But every “I” comes already through

A chain of cause, a scripted flow

Where even “new” was long ago

So where is freedom, if any breath

Is born already facing death?

If thought and heart arrive pre-set

Where is the lever not owned yet?

Here comes the cut—no turning back

No comfort, no escape hatch crack

There is no freedom in desire

No liberty in inner fire

The will obeys what shaped its form

Like iron bends to heat and storm

Nature rules with silent law

No guilt, no praise, no right or flaw

But one thin crack still cuts the wall

So narrow most don’t see it at all

Not in the act, not in the thought

But where the thought is slowly taught

Not what I want—

but where I stand

Not inner strength—

but who holds my hand

I cannot choose the seeds I bear

But I can choose the field they share

I cannot rule what grows in me

But I can place what feeds the tree

The books.

The friends.

The daily sound.

The voices lifting goal and ground.

Here lives freedom—sharp and stern

No thrill, no pride, no sudden turn

Only choosing—day by day—

Who shapes my heart along the way

And this is fear, not victory

Because neglect returns the chain to me

One lazy day, one softened choice

And nature reclaims its voice

Freedom is not release or flight

It’s guarding place through toil and fight

Responsibility without applause

Submission to immutable laws

So do not praise me, do not cheer

I did not conquer anything here

I only stood where I could change

And begged the process to rearrange

Creator—hold us inside the environment that chooses You for us, when we cannot.

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Colllect This

 

COLLECT THIS

It comes at me dirty, no knock, no grace

A thought with a shiv and a spit in my face

An emotion that drags me back through the mud

A vision soaked heavy in old shame and blood

Didn’t ask for it. Didn’t vote it in.

Still there it is—grinning—wearing my skin

The ego says, “Good, this is yours to chew”

Like I haven’t watched that lie split me in two

It says “Understand it, fix it, explain it clean”

As if control was ever part of this scene

As if I didn’t learn the hard damn way

That what I grab tight is what rots and stays

Because every time I crown it as “me”

The Light cuts out like electricity

Every time I claim it, name it, defend

I turn a message into a dead-end

So yeah—I’ve fought it, swallowed it whole

Called it “growth” while it ate my soul

Pretended strength meant white-knuckle resolve

Like this mess was something I could solve

But I’m done lying to myself today

I don’t steer the waves—I just get in the way

These thoughts ain’t wisdom, these feelings ain’t truth

They’re raw materials—untamed, uncouth

So I stop mid-impact, stripped of my pride

Not holy. Not steady. Just empty inside

And from that cracked place—no script, no tone—

I aim where I know I don’t stand alone

Because holding this solo is spiritual theft

Like hoarding a fire till there’s nothing left

I wasn’t built to contain this heat

I was built to pass it into the street

Into the space where no one’s above

Where power dissolves into stubborn love

Where ten broken throats form one clear sound

And the Creator shows up on common ground

Because alone this pressure will snap my spine

But between the friends—it refines

What kills me in private, shames me at night

Turns into fuel when we face it as one Light

The blow still lands. The weight stays real.

But it moves now—it doesn’t seal

It doesn’t rot. It doesn’t own.

It travels a channel I’ve finally known

This is the trick the ego never learns:

The moment I drop it, the system turns

The second I stop being the end of the line

Abundance pours like it lost its mind

Too much. Too fast. More than I can stand.

So I don’t hold it—I hand it back

Not cleaned. Not dressed. Not understood.

Just honest, exposed, and dangerously good

And this is the only prayer that survives the fire—

No poetry. No halo. No higher desire.

Just the last true sentence I know how to say:

Dear Creator, collect them and correct them

for our use in bestowal

through the connection in the Ten.

When It Comes At Me

 WHEN IT COMES AT ME

When it comes at me uninvited, raw and loud

A thought like a blade, an emotion too proud

A vision that shakes me, I didn’t request

It hits where I’m weakest, right dead in the chest

My ego jumps first, says “This one is mine”

To chew it, to use it, to cross every line

To fix it, to own it, to wear it like skin

Like I ever controlled what was placed deep within

But I’ve been here before, I know this disguise

Every surprise is the same old lie

If I grab it, I lose it, if I crown it as “me”

I seal off the Light and I choke the degree

So I stop.

Not brave.

Not calm.

Not clean.

Just tired of drowning in what I can’t mean

And from the heart—no speech, no show—

I turn where I’ve learned is the only place to go

Dear Creator, collect what I cannot hold

These thoughts, these fires, this hunger, this cold

I didn’t ask for them, but I won’t pretend

I know how they work or how they should end

Correct them—not soften, not hide, not erase

Turn poison to medicine, pressure to space

Not for my comfort, not so I feel “right”

But for use in bestowal, aligned with Your Light

And don’t give them back to me broken and alone

I’m not built to carry this weight on my own

Pass them between us, where vessels are true

Where Ten hearts can do what one never could do

Through the connection, not talent or might

Between the friends—that’s where You ignite

Not in my wisdom, not in my plea

But in the space where there is no “me”

And something strange happens—quiet, precise

The storm doesn’t vanish, it just loses its price

The heat is still there, but it’s no longer mine

It moves like a current, not a fault in my spine

What crushed me alone now strengthens the bond

What felt like an enemy turns quietly fond

The blow becomes fuel, the chaos a thread

Woven between us, not stuck in my head

This is the end—and the start—of the fight

Not to feel holy, not to be right

But to never again steal what was sent

To be lifted between us, not owned or spent

So when it comes at me—thought, vision, or scream—

I don’t ask why, and I don’t ask what it means

I hand it upstream, where correction is done

Through the Ten, through the bond, through the work—

as One.