Who cares where Wisdom came from, or who made the verse?
When lessons are accepted, the teacher then appears..
Enlightenment becomes you, despite the passing years
...Or where the sound is coming from; (the search is so absurd)
What matters is the things we learn, through each and every way
And the lessons we discern; from what the people say
Be thankful for what we are shown, the help that we receive
Don't worry where the Light came from - just follow it - Believe!
Your heart will know which way to turn, each time there is a choice
Just flow with it - just Go with it - and recognise the voice
The time is Now, we must move on, there is no Yesterday
That time has gone, we must move on, there is a Better way
Those days we thought were wasted, those streets we walked with gloom
The "food for thought" we tasted, the sweet-talk of “our tune”
Who cares who wrote the Music, to every song, we dance?
The notes we sing, the hopes we bring, are never left to chance
Why should all the prose we write contain such stunning rhyme
How could we, suppose such Light : could manifest each time
The language of our thoughts, impossibly translated
Those words of Wisdom on each page, the Ego, thus inflated
Regurgitated lines of Learning, all re-shaped and planned
Each author claiming untold credit for thoughts, (we understand)
For every word in every poem, every song, we sing with Pride
....comes from IN us, ALL of us, each song is HERE inside!