Psalms In The Heart

It Appears to Me (If We Want to See) It appears to me If we want to see Don’t look back Increase the lack What’s missing is not some hidden sign It’s the will to leave me behind The past keeps whispering, “You were right” But sight is born only in forward night The ego begs comfort, proof, and control While the soul cries out for a shared hole Not a hole of despair or private pain But a common absence we all sustain Don’t polish the wound, don’t dress it nice Let it burn clean, let it demand a price The lack is the place where truth can stand When I stop reaching with my own hand If I look back, I justify why I’m here If I look forward, I tremble in fear But fear is the gate that faith walks through When the “I” dissolves into “we” and “you” So don’t ask answers, don’t beg to be shown Build the space where He’s already known For vision arrives, simple and free When your lack becomes ours — it appears to me.

The Place Where Ten Become One We were not gathered for comfort or peace, But to expose the grip of the will to receive. A force was required, not one man alone, For the evil resists where it’s privately owned. So we agreed—without contract or name— That the goal stands above loss and gain. And from that consent, a power was born: To fight oneself, where the true war is sworn. Each one included in all the rest, No hero survives this particular test. For the strength of the many lives only where I dissolve my claim to being “more” or “aware.” Annulment is not a lowering of head, But choosing the friends’ merits instead. The moment I rise above even one, I sever the thread—we are no longer one. In every ten, a whole stature stands: Head, body, heels, and unseen hands. And blessed is not the one who ascends, But the one who feels lowest among his friends. For abundance flows through the place most null, Where the self is emptied, not spiritualized full. Not wisdom, not fire, not kno...

Prayer and Forgiveness in the Work No one ascends alone, that lie cuts deep, The ego whispers, “Your seeds are yours to keep.” It crowns itself king, says “Stand and be strong,” While quietly proving it’s been wrong all along. First comes the blow, the fracture, the crack, Troubles arrive and the heart fights back. I curse the road, the world, the pain, Never once asking Who pulls the rein? Rabash says: stop—look straight at the root, Name the desire, call evil its suit. The will to receive dressed holy and wise Is the very source where the darkness lies. Not shame, not guilt, not beating the chest, But clear recognition—this thing is the test. All evil revealed in a single sight: The ego alone blocks the Light. Then prayer is born—not words, not song, But a scream that admits “I waited too long.” Forgiveness is asked—not for sin or mistake, But for not turning sooner when the heart began to break. “I blamed the world, I blamed my fate, I blamed the friends, I blamed the gate. Forgive ...

The Thoughts I Swear Are Mine I wake up swinging before my feet hit the floor Heart on guard like it’s been here before Every sound a threat, every glance a test Every breath measured—no time to rest Coffee tastes like worry, news tastes like war Even silence feels loud to the core I call it instinct, I call it “me” But it’s always choosing who I should be Fight if I’m cornered, flee if I’m weak Win the argument, or don’t even speak Every memory sharpened into a blade Every joy taxed, every pleasure delayed I swear these thoughts are mine alone Built of flesh and blood and bone Don’t tell me different, don’t cross that line Ain’t nobody telling me these ain’t mine But watch it closer—real slow, real tight Same reactions morning and night Same heat in the chest, same closing jaw Same story repeated like unbroken law It tastes like fear with a prideful grin Smells like control dressed up as “win” Feels like pressure behind the eyes Like I must defend just to stay alive Then one day—nothi...

Torn between desire and fate Filled with rage and hate Wanting to break totally free From all this evil inside of me I wake up tired before the day begins Fighting the weight of my wants and sins Bills on the table, blame in my head Words I regret that I wish I never said I say I want truth, but I bargain for ease I pray for connection, then beg for my peace I swear I’m done running, then turn at the gate Cursing the road while I tempt my own fate The ego screams loud, “This pain isn’t fair” It counts every loss and keeps perfect repair It says, “You deserve more—why suffer this way?” So I feed it excuses and call it a day But somewhere between the collapse and the cry A quieter question slips gently by “If not for yourself, then who will you be When the work demands honesty?” I start to see cracks where the light gets in Not fixing the mess, just owning the sin I stop asking why this weight is mine And ask how to walk it one step at a time The rage slows down, becomes something ...

If Not Me, Then Who In the beginning of the work I wake before the light, Hands already clenched in habit, Bracing for another fight. If I am not for me, then who? No voice replaces mine, No one carries my resistance, No one crosses this line. The day collects its payment first, Bills, bodies, time, and pride, I promise I’ll be better today— By noon, that promise died. I speak of faith with a bitter tongue, Say “trust” but check the lock, I pray for light while guarding Every corner of my stock. I want the end without the road, The crown without the fall, I want to love without surrender, To give without losing at all. The ego does not go quietly, It fights like it’s the truth, It calls surrender weakness And humility abuse. It counts my hours, tracks my gain, Keeps score of every slight, It says, “Protect yourself first,” Then calls that wisdom, not fear, not fright. This stage is dry and unforgiving, No poetry, no glow, Just teeth clenched through responsibility With nowhere else to ...

  The System (Transformed) The system is beautiful—until it breaks your spine, Perfect in design, cruel in its timing divine. It hands you victories just to watch them decay, Then asks who you’ll be when the comfort’s stripped away. We learn what to expect, or so we pretend, Until the lesson demands what we refuse to bend. Together we promise we won’t look away, Yet neglect creeps in softly, day after day. Highs lift us up till we swear we can fly, Lows come at night with no reason why. The sages warned us—this road cuts deep, Not a path for the strong, but for those who can weep. Through writings we read and experiences we feel, We swear we see truth, we swear it’s real. Then life peels the mask, slow and precise, And shows us our faith was a bargain, not price. Climbing over the ego—don’t dress it as pain, It’s choking on pride while screaming for gain. Every step upward costs something you love, Every demand comes stamped from above. Faith above reason sounds holy and clea...