Psalms In The Heart

The Saboteur Was Sitting The saboteur sits grinning in my chest, Mocking my faith, saying, “You’ll fail this test. Your prayers are dust, your efforts a lie, Your ladder is broken, don’t even try.” He sharpens his tongue like a rusted blade, Carves doubt in my soul where trust was laid. He cackles, “Your friends will stumble too— Why fight for them? They’re nothing to you.” I spit blood back, though my strength is thin, I drag my heart where the war begins. Each thought is a knife, each breath a scream, But still I cling to the shattered dream. “Above reason,” I shout through choking fire, “In this ruin burns the one desire— To bind with my brothers, to annul this ‘I,’ To find the Creator, though He seems to deny.” The saboteur shatters, his laughter fades, For love has a sword no darkness degrades. Hand in hand with the Ten, we rise above, From brutal despair to unending love.

We came as beasts, with teeth and claws, Each guarding self with iron laws. The bread of shame burned in our hand, We’d eat, then choke, on shifting sand. The world concealed, the Light withdrew, Fear whispered, “It’s not for you.” The ego laughed—its throne secure, “Take all you can, what’s mine is yours.” But one by one, we bent the spine, Annulled the “I,” the beast, the swine. Hitbatlut: I’m nothing, dust and breath, I choose this death to conquer death. Then hearts began to intertwine, Hitkalelut—your pain is mine. Your joy my song, your cry my prayer, No “I” remained, just love to share. The fire rose, no walls could stay, Hitpaalut—our souls would sway. The Shechina wept, then found her nest, Within the circle, love confessed. So brutal was the path we trod, To die as men, to live with God. Yet from the ashes, hearts above, We burned away… to unconditional love.

  Born a fool, with no flame in the night, No hunger for wisdom, no yearning for Light— The drop is decreed, “weakling, fool,” so it seems, Condemned to the dust, to a life without dreams. Yet the Creator, in mercy, He scattered the seeds, Planted the righteous to answer our needs. For alone we are ashes, corpses that rot, But beside the great ones, new powers are caught. The fool has no vessel, no craving, no fight, But he cleaves to the righteous—receives their delight. What I lack from my birth, I inherit through them, As a beggar made king in Jerusalem. Without them, my Torah is poison, a knife, But with them it blossoms and gives me true life. So wicked or righteous is not in the bone, It’s chosen in love, it’s chosen in home. So I fall on my face, in weakness I cry, “Friends, lift me upward, don’t let me die!” And the Creator replies with a whisper above: “You are righteous through them… through faith, through love.”

  In the womb of our love hides a truth yet concealed, Our ego screams loudly, refusing to yield. It whispers, “You’re nothing, you’ll fail and you’ll fall,” It builds up a tower, then crushes it all. Alone we are broken, confused and deceived, No hope in the heart, no faith to believe. The mind runs in circles, the soul turns to stone, Each step that we take feels colder, alone. But then—like a spark in the dark of the night, The heart cracks wide open and lets in the Light. The friends stand beside us, their hands interlaced, The fire of love burns the ego erased. And there in the center, the secret is shown: One heart, one desire, one truth we’ve been shown. The path of the Ten, the Creator’s own art, His love beats eternal in one united heart. Through Hitbatlut — we bow and annul, Through Hitkalelut — we mix, heart and soul. Through Hitpa’alut — His Light floods apart, One breath, one desire, one love, one heart

 The line descends, a whisper, thin, A pipeline drawn, where worlds begin. It bends, it arcs, it rounds the night, Each circle born from endless Light. Keter first, so near, so high, The crown that kisses Ein Sof’s sky. Hochma follows, wisdom’s flame, Then Bina forms, her womb, her name. One by one the rings are spun, Until the tenth, where work is done. Malchut waits, the vessel’s call, Embracing circles, one through all. Ten within ten, the dance complete, Each step a heartbeat, calm, discreet. The order sings, the Light does flow, From endless heights to depths below.

 Poem for the Ten I was born weak, my vessel so small, No wisdom, no craving, no strength at all. Alone I would fall, my Torah be dust, But in you, my friends, I place all my trust. Through your fire I’m lifted, your yearning my guide, Your love is the shelter where I can abide. Not wicked or righteous by nature’s decree— But righteous through you, for you carry me.

 Born a fool, with no flame in the night, No hunger for wisdom, no yearning for Light— The drop is decreed, “weakling, fool,” so it seems, Condemned to the dust, to a life without dreams. Yet the Creator, in mercy, He scattered the seeds, Planted the righteous to answer our needs. For alone we are ashes, corpses that rot, But beside the great ones, new powers are caught. The fool has no vessel, no craving, no fight, But he cleaves to the righteous—receives their delight. What I lack from my birth, I inherit through them, As a beggar made king in Jerusalem. Without them, my Torah is poison, a knife, But with them it blossoms and gives me true life. So wicked or righteous is not in the bone, It’s chosen in love, it’s chosen in home. So I fall on my face, in weakness I cry, “Friends, lift me upward, don’t let me die!” And the Creator replies with a whisper above: “You are righteous through them… through faith, through love.”