Psalms In The Heart

🔥 The Missing Conversation of Hearts 🔥 We sit in the lesson pretending we’re one, but the moment it ends, every heart comes undone. We mute the Zoom and forget what we felt, like the warmth of the fire just suddenly melts. We talk of connection, of rising above, yet we carry no friend in our pockets of love. No whispered prayer for Carl when the storm hits his day, no heartbeat for Terry when his strength slips away. Joe Bash fights his demons alone in the night, Joe Donnelly bleeds quietly out of our sight. Derick breaks open but no one can tell, Oscar stands waving from inside his own hell. Jean’s got a sorrow we never can feel, Ilya prays softly but we’re nowhere near real. Aron holds burdens he never unloads, ’Cause none of us walk with him down those dark roads. We cry for the Creator but forget where He starts— He’s built in the space between trembling hearts. But how can He rise when we’re worlds torn apart and we never have that missing conversation of heart ? The truth hits...

Where The Creator Hides Between Us When ten men bend their pride to give, they taste the reason they were born to live. Each tries to bestow though his ego screams “No!” and from this shattered effort, the first lights start to glow. We push through bills, through fears, through endless crap, through mornings where we’d rather stay curled in a trap, but the moment one heart tries to rise and give, the others remember why together we live. You try to love a friend and your strength disappears— the Creator shows the truth by exposing your fears. But when all of us fail and still reach out again, the Creator signs His name on the hearts of ten men. We build Him from nothing, from broken desires, from daily annoyances, from anger and fires. Each tiny bestowal, each gesture we try, forms the vessel where the Creator will lie. For revelation is not in “me,” not in “you,” but in the place where our shattered intentions push through. In that trembling space where two hearts meet, the Creator’s...

🔥 “Inside the One Desire” (A brutal everyday climb toward the Creator ) I crawl inside the want to be One with Him, while the bills keep screaming and the lights go dim. My phone won’t stop buzzing with the world’s demands, yet my heart’s in a war zone with empty hands. I dive into that chamber where the longing burns, but the damn car won’t start and the whole day turns. Traffic jams choke me while ego pulls tight, still I search for His softness inside the fight. The boss barks orders, my patience cracks, the weight of the rent sitting on my back. Friends ghost out, loneliness stalks the room, yet I whisper His name in the inner gloom. Coffee spills down my shirt as I try to ascend, the mind mocks every dream I intend. Pain in my chest from wanting His face, but my dog pukes on the floor — so much for grace. The desire pulls harder while the world goes mad, I feel Him in the ache of the good and bad. Every interruption is a messenger sent, showing me the lack where my vessel is bent...

🔥 “The Left, the Right, and the Beast Inside” 🔥 I stand before the King with shaking hands, Pretending I’m whole while drowning in shifting sands. Above reason I praise Him like a man who can’t breathe, But when reason kicks in, it shows what’s underneath. The left line hits me like a boot to the skull, Revealing the truth—my heart’s empty, dull. Importance of holiness? Only when I fake it, Inside I’m bare, bankrupt, too damned weak to take it. I see I’ve got nothing—no faith that’s real, Just a mouth that talks tough while my knees always kneel. This lack is the knife that cuts me awake, It hurts so bad it teaches what wholeness can’t make. Emptiness carves me till I’m hollow and thin, Like the Creator ripped open my chest just to crawl in. This beast in me screams, “Take for yourself!” While the soul whispers softly, “Ask for nothing but help.” I taste the left line—cold, sharp, and vile, It shows what I hide with every forced smile. But only those who seek to bestow can feel this...

🔥 “When the Hunger Turns Holy” — A Poem on Shamati 143 I walk through days where nothing fits, The heart’s a cage the ego knits. It whispers, “Take, devour, claim,” ’Til all my thoughts burst into flame. The soul grows hungry in the dark, It claws the ribs to leave a mark. It begs for Light but tastes the mud, ’Cause every rise must cross the flood. Shamati writes: the hunger’s real— You starve until the heavens peel. You’re left with nothing but your cry, A broken vessel asking why . But this is love, disguised as pain, The lack, the longing, the inner strain. He empties you so you can feel How only He can make you real. You fight the urge to numb the ache, To run, to hide, to curse, to break. But every wound that splits your chest Is Him demanding you confess: “I’m not the owner of this life, I cannot win this inner strife. Take all I hold, all I defend— Just let me fall into my friends.” And when the darkness steals your breath, When hope feels like a quiet death, You learn...

THE MORNING ROLLERCOASTER — Full Epic Version PART I — WAKING INTO THE WAR I wake in the morning and thank G-D I’m alive, already bracing my soul for the next hard dive. This corporal world jerks me side to side, a rusted-out ego-run carnival ride. My phone buzzes early like a demon on cue, whispering, “Bill… there’s trouble for you.” Bills on the table, the tank’s running dry, the body groans louder than my morning sigh. But somewhere inside there’s a flickering grace, a memory of friends, each heart, each face. And before the world drags me back into night, I reach for the Ten — my one source of Light. PART II — THE FALL AND THE FIGHT Every step forward the ego screams, “Mine!” poisoning the heart like a cheap boxed wine. It claws and it argues, it wants to divide, to throw me off balance on this wild-ass ride. Carl’s voice in the Zoom cuts through the doubt, Terry shows up steady even when he’s burnt-out. Joe Bash brings thunder, Joe Donnelly brings calm, like two sides of mercy str...

  “What It Takes to Open a Heart” What does it take for the heart to know, that it’s safe to crack wide and finally show, the friends the storms that tear you apart, the blood-raw truth of an opening heart? It takes dying to pride till your knees hit the floor, letting ego scream while you open the door, letting them see where you’re broken and torn, admitting you’re lost, beaten down, and worn. It takes trusting the Ten with your trembling soul, handing them pieces you barely control, letting them hold you when you collapse inside, revealing the fear you’ve spent years trying to hide. It takes swallowing shame like a handful of nails, confessing your failures, your secrets, your fails, letting their warmth touch the places you choke, letting their love melt the armor you’ve built from the smoke. It takes faith in the Creator who carved every scar, knowing He placed each friend exactly where they are, so when you open your heart and let all things be, you’re not falling apart ...