By Anonymous
Sometimes I sit alone for a while,
Watching life go by,
Sitting high on a mountain top,
Wondering just why
Those ant-sized lives don’t pause and wonder
“What’s this busyness for?”
They never look at ground and ask
“Why go on one day more?”
Is life itself a fleeting dream?
Windy words without sense
A breeze that floats through lofty trees,
Whispers like incense.
I stop my mind from all of its
Wandering around,
Meandering, constant babbling,
I work to stop the sound,
To quiet down my monkey mind,
Which lets me look within
And sit there in a silent peace
Without the sound of sin.
For joy springs forth eternal from this
Wide yet hidden place:
Whence from a stream of steady silence
Wheels through every space.