I was born inside a system vast,
So perfect—future, present, past.
A woven force no eye can trace,
Yet every breath reveals its place.
Not chaos. Not mistake. Not chance.
But law so pure all worlds must dance.
A single Thought, a force bestowed,
That built the path each soul must road.
First came the hunger—to receive,
A crafted lack so we believe.
Not curse, not flaw, not shameful scar,
But vessel built to seek afar.
For what is Light if none should crave?
What is the Gift if none can save?
Bestowal formed creation’s sea,
But built the need through you and me.
The will to take—our nature’s core,
The empty knock upon the door.
Yet Kabbalah reveals the key:
The flaw’s not thirst—but “only me.”
For here’s the work most never see:
To shape desire intentionally.
Not kill the will, nor cast aside,
But raise its use, correct its pride.
To take this vessel, cracked and wild,
And aim it like a faithful child.
Not for myself, not fleeting gain,
But to return Love back again.
Through others…
Through hearts that share the same deep ache,
The same great lack no world can fake.
To bond, connect, become as one—
Many vessels… one bright sun.
And in that union something starts:
The Creator breathes through joined hearts.
His joy revealed when we align—
Reception clothed in the Divine.
So yes… the system’s perfect still.
The fall, the climb, the broken will.
For every fragment, every scar,
Was built to show us who we are.
A vessel born through need and night,
Corrected slowly into Light.
Until receiving’s finally shown…
As bestowal returned back Home.
