Psalms In The Heart

🔥 “The Middle Line Cuts Me Open”   🔥 I wake each morning torn in two, One side says rise , the other says you’ll never break through. The right whispers, “Brother, the Creator is always right,” The left hisses, “Look at your failures—you lost the fight.” I sip my coffee, feel the burn in my chest, Right line says, Thank Him , left line says, you’re a mess. I drop the mug; it shatters like my fragile belief, Right says, “This too is Providence,” left says, “your life is grief.” I drive to work and someone cuts me off on the street, Right says, embrace him , left screams, destroy the cheat! I choke down the venom boiling inside, Right says, “Annul,” left says, “open wide.” I enter the Ten and see their faces glowing bright, Right says, love them , left says, pick one to fight . Right tells me, “The Creator is perfect; justify Him now,” Left says, “You’re broken—tell Him to show you how.” I read Baal HaSulam: Clean and righteous do not kill , Right says, “Accept above reason,” left ...

PSALM 3 —  The Savage Version I wake to a war that never lets go, Enemies rising inside me like a tidal undertow. They whisper, “You’re nothing, you’ll never ascend,” Poisoning my faith from beginning to end. They shout, “Your Creator won’t bother to save!” As they drag my heart toward its own grave. These voices aren’t strangers—they live in my chest, Ego-born demons denying me rest. But You, Creator, are the shield I can’t see, Lifting my broken head back toward Thee. Your light cuts through the filth on my skin, Burning the falsehoods I buried within. I fall into sleep surrounded by fear, But You pull me up when dawn draws near. For every breath I take is not truly mine, It flows from Your heart through the love of the Nine. Ten thousand thoughts try to tear me apart, But they shatter like glass on the stone of the heart. When I lean on my brothers and drop all pretense, Your salvation floods in and knocks down the fence. Creator, smash the teeth of the serpent I ...

**PSALM 3 ** My enemies rise like storms in the night, Whispering lies to choke out the Light. They say, “Your salvation will never appear,” Trying to plant their venomous fear. But You, my Creator, are my shield in the fight, You lift up my head and restore inner sight. I cry out in darkness, You answer in flame, Burning my doubts, exposing my shame. I lay down surrounded by shadows so deep, Yet somehow I breathe… somehow I sleep. For You hold my heartbeat inside Your hand, And raise me again with a silent command. Ten thousand voices rise against me to scream, But their noise dissolves like a half-dead dream. For when I'm with my brothers, heart next to heart, Their unity tears all illusions apart. Creator, break the teeth of the lies in my mind, Crush the illusions that keep me blind. Rip out the ego that hisses inside, The serpent that never stops selling its pride. Salvation is Yours—never bought, never earned, Only revealed when the vessel is burned. An...

Prayer Without Pride I crawl to You, Creator, stripped of every lie, My ego claws for credit, begging You to glorify. It howls inside my chest, demanding “Look at me!” But I beg You—kill that beast so only love can be. I’m tired of my prayers that stink of selfish gain, They’re soaked in hidden motives, dipped in secret shame. I want to cry for friends, not for the throne I crave, Burn every trace of honor—leave nothing left to save. Let every word I utter tear the ego from my throat, Let my heart be just a vessel—not a king, not a boat. No comfort, no reward, no sweet illusion’s light, Just faith above all reason as I bleed for what is right. I want a prayer of fire, not this hollow, begging plea, A cry that lifts my brothers—never glorifies me. So smash the pride inside me till I’m dust upon the floor, And let the Ten be everything… I don't exist anymore. Creator, take my intention—crush it, bend it, make it true, Let my prayer be pure bestowal, flowing only back to You. No...

🔥 The Story of My Life  🔥 I have been asked to tell you a story of my life, It's filled with horror and fear and strife. I am not sure it's the story to you I wish to send, But it is what it is, so let's begin. The earliest I remember is when I was three, As my mother shook the hell out of me. You see she suffered from this mental disease, Paranoid Schizophrenia—hard on many degrees. As she dug her fingers into my arm breaking the skin, And yelled with anger from deep within, “You’re not my child, get out of my life!” Which set me up for a lifetime of strife. As a fat and clumsy little boy, I found it hard by now to find any joy. So we fast-forward to the age of 9— Man, this again was a troubling time. As my teachers all stood up in despair, Proclaiming loudly that there was no repair. They said I was dyslexic at best, As they threw me in a class with the rest Of the ones that learn slowly with no ease, And then the kids really started to tease. Eve...

**🌍 “Eight Billion Cries, One Beating Heart” By William S. Becker  We wake each morning already afraid, Dragging yesterday’s battles into the life we’ve made. The coffee spills, the car won’t start, And some stranger cuts us off, driving straight through our heart. The boss snaps orders like we’re not alive, While we fake one smile just trying to survive. Our phones keep buzzing with the world’s despair, Eight billion souls screaming, “Does anyone care?” A mother cries quietly so her kids won’t know, A father breaks slowly with no safe place to go. A teenager hides the storm inside his chest, Searching for one real friend to give his heart some rest. We walk around wounded pretending we’re strong, But the suffering shows we’ve had it wrong all along. For every crack in me is a crack in you, And only together can we break through. But when I lift your spirit from the floor, My own heart rises even more. When I warm your hands in the freezing night, The Creator slips inside and fill...

🔥 Psalm 34 — William S. Becker 🔥 I cried from the pit where the shadows grow tall, Where the ego claws upward trying to make me fall. But the Creator bent low to the crack in my chest, Whispered, “Rise, My son… even broken is blessed.” I boasted in nothing, for nothing was mine, My pride was a thief dressed in thoughts so divine. But the meek heard my trembling and answered my cry, A Ten made of heaven pulled me up to the sky. Taste and you’ll see that His sweetness is real, Though He hides it in hunger the heart must reveal. He breaks us like bread till our arrogance dies, Then He feeds us His love… as the tears fill our eyes. The lions of ego roar loud in the night, Claiming strength, demanding praise, feeding off light. But those who seek Him with hands open and bare Will lack nothing at all, for He meets them right there. Come children, draw near—learn the terror of good, The fear that dissolves the “I” where you stood. Guard your tongue from the poison your anger would spill, Fo...