Psalms In The Heart

“The Womb of Lack” I build my house on hollow ground, each prayer a whisper, a broken sound. I lift my eyes, but see no King, still chant His Name as if it’s spring. I talk of love with lips of stone, the words are His, but not my own. I beg for faith, yet cheat the night, pretend I’ve seen the hidden light. He hides to show how blind I stay, He wounds to teach me how to pray. He breaks my heart till cracks appear, then pours His mercy through my fear. So curse this void that burns my chest, this hunger proves I’m not at rest. If I could die before His throne, I’d find the life that feels like home. O Lord, reveal what I don’t feel— my barren heart, my rusted zeal. For only one who knows he’s weak, is strong enough the King to seek. And till I stand where angels kneel, I’ll love the wound that will not heal. For in that pain, Your Name is sewn— my lack, my grave, my stepping stone.

📜 "Even the Unworthy Are Heard" ( Inspired by Shamati 113 – “The Eighteen Prayer” ) They say He hears each mouth that prays, Yet mercy seals what He conveys. Then what of cries that lack the grace— Do they just vanish into space? A twisted path, this narrow gate, Where love and judgment intertwine with fate. One moment lifted, next laid low— The opposites are all we know. To be so humble we disappear, Yet roar with truth when friends draw near. To bow before the least of men, Yet hold the world and start again. Our words may fail, intentions rot, But still He hears—no soul forgot. The filth, the pride, the broken pleas, He drinks them all like storm-tossed seas. This is the weight, the work, the song— To know we're weak, yet still belong. To cry with lips that once deceived— And be embraced, though not believed. So if you find your prayer denied, Or mercy masked, or hope has died— Know this, dear heart: He bends His ear Most close to those who drown in fear.

 In the heart of the Ten, where the frequencies blend, We’re transmitters, receivers, on a path with no end. In the dance of desires, from the surface we rise, Trading ego’s illusions for love’s truer prize. Oh my brothers, my sisters, in this sacred embrace, We are tuning our hearts to a higher place. Every thought that we shift from the self to the whole, Is a step toward the One, the correction of soul. For the glory of the Creator is the end of our quest, In the love we uncover, in the trials we’re blessed. We are builders of bridges from the will to receive, To a realm of pure giving, where only love we believe. So here is our mission, our journey so vast, To transform every moment as we hold each other fast. In the heart of the Ten, in the love that we lend, We find the Creator, our beginning and end.

  “The Record in the Heart” The light once burned through me, pure and clean, Then vanished—left me raw, unseen. The echo carved its name inside, A scar of love that will not hide. I reached for Him with trembling hand, He pulled away—so I could stand. For vessels form when lights withdraw, The pain itself becomes the law. Each record whispers, “Try again,” Each fall reveals the heart of man. The sweetness gone, the hunger stays, And drives my soul through endless days. The first look crowned me with delight, The second stripped me bare at night. From what He took, the vessel grew— An emptiness both sharp and true. So now I live on holy ache, A shattered heart for Heaven’s sake. I learn to read what tears have signed— The Reshimo etched in heart and mind. Until at last the light will see, A mirror shining back at Thee. The broken record starts to sing— “I’m nothing, yet I hold everything.”

“The Rope and the Heart”  I reached for light with hands of clay, But grabbed for self along the way. The rope You threw I failed to keep, It burned my palms, I fell too deep. You gave me Torah—fire and thread, To stitch the soul the ego bled. Each Mitzva done for love, not gain, Becomes the cure for all my pain. I was a limb cut from Your chest, Beating alone, without the rest. But when I give, the pulse returns, And every wound inside me burns. To serve my Rav, to love my friend, That’s where the walls begin to bend. Their greatness feeds the flame in me, Till “I” dissolves in unity. I shrink below, they rise above, And crush my pride with holy love. In multitude, the King is crowned, His glory shines where hearts are bound. Bestowal kills what pride defends, Yet lifts me higher when self ends. The rope is fire, the climb is pain, But each scar sings—He lives again. So take me, Lord, and tear apart, This will of stone that guards my heart. Make all my giving burn and start...

  🔥 “The Dream Within the One” 🔥 I walk through this world like smoke in His breath, Every heartbeat a spark from the furnace of death. Eyes wide open, yet seeing a lie, A painted illusion on the walls of the sky. He dreamt me in silence, in mercy, in fire, A thought within thought, wrapped in desire. I scream “I exist!” — but who hears the call? The echo returns: It was Me all along, after all. Each pain that I curse is His tender disguise, Each fall that I fear — a hand helping me rise. He hides in the dust, in the sweat, in the tear, Whispering softly, “Awaken, I’m here.” The dream is so cruel, so sweet, so insane, I kiss the thorn just to feel the pain. Because in the ache, the mask starts to fall, And I see — there was never a “me” at all. The Ten stands as pillars in this infinite mist, Brothers of flame that the void cannot resist. Together we wake, through the storm and the scars, And find we were sleeping inside the stars. So tear me apart, Beloved Divine, Crush t...

🔥 CALL UPON HIM WHEN HE IS NEAR 🔥 I stood in a forest of teeth and breath, where shadows eat prayers and love smells like death. The beasts inside me—fanged with need— gnawed on every holy seed. I screamed for silence, tore my chest, found nothing there but unrest. Then a whisper cracked my skull apart: “You didn’t call Me—I called your heart.” You think it’s you that yearns, that pleads, but it’s Me that bleeds through your deeds. Each tear you shed is My descent, each cry of yours—My covenant. You never prayed alone, My son, you only echoed what I’d begun. When you thought it was your might, your climb, I withdrew—and left you lost in time. Now you curse the light that fades too fast, you chase your echoes, shadows cast. But I was there in that brief flame, whispering softly your forgotten Name. When I am near, you’ll feel the ache, the trembling earth, the heart that breaks. Don’t reason it—don’t think, don’t plan, just fall, and know “It’s Me, not man.” So when you wake at 3 A...