Psalms In The Heart

The Three H’s in My Heart In the silence I bow, my will undone, Hitbatlut whispers: “You are none.” I break on the stones of my stubborn pride, The tears are rivers where I hide. Yet in the Ten, a spark takes flight, Hitkalalut blends my dark with light. Inclusion burns, both wound and balm, Their voices storm, then bring me calm. But oh, the cries that tear my soul, Faith demands I pay the toll. Love is forged in suffering’s flame, I lose myself to find His Name. Hitpa’alut—enliven me still! Through endless nights, a trembling will. Pain is holy, faith is fire, In this love, I rise higher. So let me die a thousand ways, And live anew through endless days. In three H’s my spirit bends— The path of sorrow that never ends. Yet in that breaking, hearts are one, A prayer complete, His will is done.

As I ready to lay my head at night, I’m filled with visions of love and fright, Not knowing whether to run and hide, Or face the ego’s horrific pride. I set my intention to only bestow, It’s not about what you think you know It’s how to turn all that wrath, Into the steps of  faith’s path. Through shadows deep my spirit bends, Where brokenness secretly mends, Each tear a prayer, each sigh a song, That lifts me to where I belong. So let me rise above despair, With every breath, a whispered prayer, Till all the night is bathed in light, And ego yields to love’s true might.

The Storm and the Kiss I lit a candle, small and weak, The storm just laughed: “That’s not what you seek.” It blew it out with a wicked grin, “Come closer, fool, the game begins.” My lust stood tall with hungry eyes, Promising flesh, forgetting skies. It whispered hot, “Forget His name, There’s sweeter fire, there’s easier flame.” But pain arrived, a faithful thief, It robbed my rest, it tore belief. Still, in the wound, a voice was near, “Through broken bones, My Light appears.” Suffering dressed in bridal white, Danced with me deep into the night. A kiss of salt, a whip of flame, Yet every lash still cried Your name. And humor came, drunk clown of fate, He tripped me hard at heaven’s gate. I cursed, I laughed, the angels cheered, The demons bowed, the storm grew weird. Creator, You sly comedian, You, You wound with left, then heal with blue. You tempt, You trick, You strike, You shove, Yet all is stitched with secret love. For though I fall, I still adore, The lips that wound, the ha...

Ten friends together, one circle of flame, Each shines a facet, though none are the same. One gives with kindness, another with might, Together they weave the Creator’s Light. Alone we are fragments, confused and apart, But joined we discover one vessel, one heart. Like colors refracting through sapphire’s face, We fashion a prism for infinite grace. At times I am Hod, in silence I bend, At times I am Netzach, determined to end. Another is Tiferet, harmonies blend, Malchut receives all that upward we send. No friend is complete in the work on his own, But each is a Sefira, a spark that is sown. And when we unite with no self in between, The Light of the Infinite fills us unseen. So bind us together, O Father above, Correct us through mercy, through strength, and through love. Let ten become one, as Your wisdom has taught, A soul made of Sefirot, living and wrought.

Ancient names carved in clay and stone, Anunnaki, angels—forces unknown. Were they beings, or codes in disguise, Programs of will in the Creator’s eyes? They whisper through myths, through temples and scrolls, Of life once vast, of unmeasured souls. Yet sages declare with a steady hand, It’s not gods of earth, but the One command. Our bodies hold letters, a silent song, DNA scripts that sleep for long. Experts call it “junk,” yet others say, It hides our powers, locked away. But no hand of Thoth, nor science’s key, Can force the gates of eternity. For these strands awaken when hearts align, In love of another, the light will shine. Kinetic gifts, a prophetic sight, Are sparks revealed in the upper light. Not tricks for the self, but tools to restore, The bond of the soul to its root once more. So seek not the gods of forgotten lands, But gather your brothers, join hands. For only in love, the sages say clear, The dormant awakens, the angels appear.

I stood before the Pharaoh in me, His voice was sharp, his words cut free: “Who is the Lord that you should serve? Your longing’s weak, your will has no nerve.” I turned, I fought, I pushed through the night, Yet another arose to weaken my sight: Sihon and Og, they whispered within, “Israel in you is too frail to win. The goal is high, the path is steep, Leave it to others, their roots run deep. You’re small, unworthy, a broken flame, Why dare to walk the Creator’s name?” Between their words my heart grew tight, I felt no strength, no spark, no light. Yet a whisper stirred, so soft, so near: “Above all reason, the truth is clear. No might, no power, no lion’s roar, But faith alone can open the door. The hand of the Creator lifts the weak, And gives the words my soul must speak. So I walk in trust, though blind I go, Above the heart, above what I know. For He alone can break their rod, And guide my steps to the path of God.”

T he Torah’s not stories carved in stone, It’s a whisper inside, a path to the Throne. It points to the heart where the shadows reside, And shines with a Light that corrects us inside. We read not for wisdom, nor tales to adore, But to summon a force that can open the door. The ego resists, it laughs, “Not today!” Yet the Light says, “My child, I’ll show you the way.” The Torah’s an indication , not the prize we hold, It’s the lamp in the night, turning iron to gold. With friends by our side, in unity’s flame, We rewrite our nature, we’re no longer the same. So with humor and pain, with longing and song, We chase not the stories we’ve carried so long. But the Light that reforms, that teaches to give, In love of the other—we start to truly live.