A small voice whispers in the dead of the night,
Hidden behind closed curtains it silently does cry.
Hugging the Torahs as tears roll down his cheeks,
Begging for a miracle to occur his voice starts to rise.
Hashem please help, I cannot go on,
No one understands me, I’m losing my faith.
I’m coming to You as a son to his father,
Please I beg, prove that You care.
I’ve been alone for far too long, I need You to reveal
Yourself,
End this galus, stop all this pain.
Clutching the now wet mantle his voice suddenly does catch,
His tears turn to sobs as he silently breaks down.
Minutes go by with hardly a word,
He suddenly looks up and says softly:
Hashem, I know that I don’t deserve Your help, but I’m
coming to you as a broken soul,
I screwed up, that I do know and now I stand here begging
for Your guidance.
Once again at a loss for words, he breaks down sprawled
across the Aron,
Crying to himself he slowly drifts off; sleeping in a puddle
of tears.
A short time later he slowly does rise,
There’s nothing left to say, he begs once last time then
backs away.
Silently whispering Shema Yisroel, please, I beg, help Your
lost son.
