A hammer to a carpenter,
A lute to its player,
A pen for the poet,
A joy for creation.

A mind that searches,
For something that can't be found,
A question of love and faith,
In yourself can be bound.

Around and around we go,
But which thought runs the show,
Or do we open to what we know,
And experience the love that quietly glows.

True to ourselves,
Known by few,
Felt by many,
A time has come,
Where no time,
is Now.

Breathe and create........