Crossing the bridge to forever,
the way filters out what won't belong.
Seasons have a reason, to see the ever-changing scenery of eternity's spin.
Heaven's wonder is distributed in every direction,
every location, every face holds potential gifts (if only to define yourself against).
The music tells me stories, unlike the ones that rule the world.
You see, the ingredients are all good, all given,
it's in the mix that we can make a mess.
That gun's been spun from divine material,
just like the spoon and hammer and flute.
We try to guess the philosophy of the clouds
and work out what flowers would say if they could speak.
We attribute motive to the song of the bird,
trying to work out what cares, the carefree have.
The sun doesn't have a job, yet sustains ten thousand things.
The wind never planned out its life
and seems to go round in circles, touching all its passes.
The singers sing because they love to.
The river flows because that's all it knows.
The ocean doesn't mind how the streams arrived
or what waves get up to on the shoreline,
since eventually they will return.
Everything works in concert, with no purpose,
save a sweet, ever-changing harmony of life.
People stress themselves with what to do,
when doing is kind of besides the point.
What matters is the quality of being.
The actions that flow out from that lack any meaning,
save as an expression of inner feeling.
What is disharmonious, is disconnected.
What is awkward, has not found its roots.
What is anxious, is far from home.
What is troubled, is just ripples on the surface of a lake of goodness.
Stop throwing stones, into a soup that is alright, just as it is.
Let it be.
What you are seeing is your interpretation.
You are perceiving through the lens of belief.
See the changes, in the context of the sky.
Let the beauty of particularities speak to your heart.
Speak words like a happy puppy barks.
Look at life with soft eyes.