My words as music raises me in velvet notes
Climbing the stairs of vast space and time
Into the zenith of my meditating mind
I smile when the warm notion of my awakening
Seeps under my eye-lids and slides them open
Flowing in my blooming garden
Sets the air buzzing with youthful presence
When spring-time converses with my gladdened ear
I love myself for the nobility with which I bore
The necessary weight of truthful decisions
Before weight took to flight born aloft on a breeze
The world to me is not a spinning globe upon my mantle
But as forever is long, as the mind is vast
So then is the spinning universe within my revelations
Days are as nights inside years which grow my wise ways
Love renews on my windowsill where I planted it
And nurtured it, shooting green into my living rooms
When my pen touches paper, or inspiration taps the keys
I remember why it was that I ever wrote the words
Listen...what do you hear? What do you revere?
Give eyes the speech to paint, let taste suggest we see
May touch celebrate all traces of love
And let scent arrange the bouquet of our chosen flowers
Speak freely, sing, dance, laugh out loud
In all orders of importance, this is what being pure means:
Leaving the white noise behind, feeling the meaning of the words
Pulsing between the lines of your own essential living
Climbing the stairs of vast space and time
Into the zenith of my meditating mind
I smile when the warm notion of my awakening
Seeps under my eye-lids and slides them open
Flowing in my blooming garden
Sets the air buzzing with youthful presence
When spring-time converses with my gladdened ear
I love myself for the nobility with which I bore
The necessary weight of truthful decisions
Before weight took to flight born aloft on a breeze
The world to me is not a spinning globe upon my mantle
But as forever is long, as the mind is vast
So then is the spinning universe within my revelations
Days are as nights inside years which grow my wise ways
Love renews on my windowsill where I planted it
And nurtured it, shooting green into my living rooms
When my pen touches paper, or inspiration taps the keys
I remember why it was that I ever wrote the words
Listen...what do you hear? What do you revere?
Give eyes the speech to paint, let taste suggest we see
May touch celebrate all traces of love
And let scent arrange the bouquet of our chosen flowers
Speak freely, sing, dance, laugh out loud
In all orders of importance, this is what being pure means:
Leaving the white noise behind, feeling the meaning of the words
Pulsing between the lines of your own essential living
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