We think words run the world, but they are just dust in the wind
Too much stuff is spoken from up here, not enough from within
When it comes time to leave, is it the words we will remember,
Or is it the essence of the person who made us feel tender?
Words are like blocks, but Life is a flowing stream
There are no words to fully capture this waking dream
So why am I still thinking, searching for a deeper meaning?
Is it meaning I need, or just an inner spiritual healing?
What’s the point of spending hours talking about about Truth, God and Love,
If at the end of it you still can’t touch Life without wearing a glove?
Take it from someone who has spent way too much time thinking about this
The present moment is the only thing you must not miss
Sometimes I worry I won’t learn to Live before my death,
But then I remember, all it takes is one breath
Breathe with me
Breathing in, I know I am alive
Breathing out, I am grateful