Zen

In the wind, a whisper calls,
A fleeting moment that forever stalls.
The hand that grasps is like the stream,
It leads, though it knows no end or dream.

Chorus
With every breath that moves the air,
What was, and what vanishes there.
No room for time, no space for fear,
All flows together, crystal clear.

Verse 2
The search is for what cannot decay,
The shadow follows, but fades away.
The source is constant, pure, and bright,
The form, a fleeting spark of light.

Chorus
With every breath that moves the air,
What was, and what vanishes there.
No room for time, no space for fear,
All flows together, crystal clear.

Bridge
Words may blur, sounds may fade,
But silence speaks of what is made.
No “I,” no “you,” just the sound,
That fills the void, where truths are found.

Outro
The form dissolves, the wave ascends,
The source remains, and never ends.
In flowing on, all beings blend,
What was, is free, and will transcend.