Levi Ben Rubin was born ten years after the WW II in Poland from Holocaust survivors. In 1979 he escaped from the Communist Army and emigrated to the United States of America. After five months, on January 1st 1980 he arrived in the ancient city Jerusalem.

The Almighty visited Levi in the Judean desert where he fasted and prayed for 40 days. After all puddles of water dried up Levi started to search for water. At the end of that period Levi’s strength had left him. On the verge of dying an angel of the Lord led him to a spring.

For several years he lived in Rova Yehudi (Jerusalem’s Jewish quarter) a short walk to the Western Wall. For several years he practiced Orthodox Judaism where he gained much knowledge about Judaism and Christianity. He studied with the best of scholars in religion and archeology. During that time he experienced what is called T’shuvah (repentance) a supernatural cleansing of the ancestral family tree. Light like a feather Levi started to fly, a height from which he never came down.



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You are a flower that has not yet bloomed
Tall tree which has not yet taken a root
A pearl to be formed and then to be found
A diamond still buried deep in the ground
You are the echo of eons of time
You are the voice still to be refined
Ray of rainbows that still must appear
In time still appointed, this time is near
Your time is to come to show the divine
Though water already was changed into wine
Still hidden in shadows then brought to light
Lifted on high, hid in the ground then glorified
The everlasting one, the ancient one with scars
Earth could not hold you, no moons, no stars
No width, no depth, no height, no distance
No light nor darkness, no man's insistence
The task was finished the price was paid
The world is redeemed who wants to be saved?
From gloom and darkness, dreaded separation
From the Almighty from His inspiration
The Word made flesh - His son the revelation
The way, the truth, the life - the Ancient of days
Like most precious seed lost without a trace
Among those who like Him suffered many blows
He fell and was buried in fields made out of souls
He flourished and blossomed and sprang up anew
Can you see Him in me? Can I see Him in you?

* * *


Countless tears are silent now they won't tell the truth
Countless hurts and countless hopes lost their voices too
My so-called friends turned dumb... and grope confused
The ring of truth they heard and loved, whose echo's now defused

By other more important rings like of that broken bell
Still hanging high, in self-respect, adored and worshipped by hell
Lovers of self, in propped-up chairs, wanton schemes their minds devise
Wax filled year of the endless 'I'. Hearts made of stone, in disguise.

The etiquette, cynical smile, elegant gestures well tailored and neat
To such the poor and meek are less than refuse under their feet
With lying tongue, with endless words and endless personification
Is to mislead and choke to death with polluted air of sophistication

Of someone else whose heart is pure, whose words are few yet mighty
Whose mind is set to do one thing: to please the One called the Almighty
Yet truth keeps suffering, but it has time for it can stand, it can endure
The onslaught of the broken bell whose sound's distorted whose shape's disfigured

Yet ringing dimly for those in shadows, in murky waters, in white-washed tombs
Oh let it ring when truth is marching. And let it spike those bleeding wounds
Oh let it have its final fill and let it make this noise and drill
Till it exhausts its put-on strength and let it make its final spill

All tears are dried. Old wounds are healed. The time has come to climb the spire
Roll up the sleeves and free the slaves, still in a daze, under a spell of the old liar
Crush! The cracked old bell is shattered now. All are awake the veil's removed
The vision's clear, the Rock is here - The truth. It shall not be moved!

* * *


What can dust say when He blows it away?
What can clay say when it's bathed in a flame?
When He tares it apart, then throws it to the side
Cracks it like a pot, beats it with all might

What can dust say to the Maker?
What can wheat say to the shaker?
What can clay say to the potter?
When He makes the furnace hotter?

What can son say to his father?
New born infant to its mother?
What can horse say to a wagon?
What can ox say to the plowman?

What can plow say to the earth?
And what can earth say to all men?
A garden flower that’s cut to be sold
In crystal vase it fades and dies cold

Crystal bars, stagnated water, flower rots without a bail
What remains is a dream world, broken sailboat with no sail
Shattered pot, stitched up with strings, sings no more hymns
Broken plane with broken wings thinks it flies... on illusion winds

It's not a matter of acceptance all that comes my way
Do I have another choice? Can I cry? What can dust say?
Can I fight against God's plans? I'd rather succumb
To whatever may come, like a beast with no regrets, dumb...

Like a water drop in a beam of light fades out and fades in
I've got no choice but to change my form, cloud driven by wind
He must fill for He has emptied. He has sewn and made the rip
What He's shattered must He mend; raise this broken ship

Change the currents, streams, fix the sails and place the rudder,
Drive new winds and write new hymns for the pot once shattered
He must raise me up again or still keep me in the morgue
You sliced me up, like a piece of meat pierced me with fork

I've had no option. You brought me low...lower...to naught
Your plan, desire, seems ominous, your wish of 'yes' and 'not'
I'll eat your grapes, drink wine till dawn then slurp the lees
Like a dumb beast I do surrender and die in peace

* * *


A child is born with eyes shut tight
The noise is too loud the light is too bright
After a while the world has its way
For the laws that govern it prevail

The child now sees, wiggles and smiles
It cries, it's hungry, eats and retires
Sleeping and waking, living, subsisting
Till time has its fill; hungering and thirsting

Little by little the world is discovered
What was still hidden and dimly covered
Reemerge in images once seen in distant past
Colors and shapes, blue sky and green grass

They are here now from long, long ago
The child has seen, the child has known
What is my mission on this dreary spree?
And what is the purpose of me being here?

Bewildered, bamboozled or just introduced?
Child is probing all signals as if distressed
The new discovery does not yet make sense
It is all still hidden in veils of innocence


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