Thanksgiving

Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty In actions, we find a true meaning worthy to knife To grow is to walk a serene valley you fill of plenty Of hollow praise and false flattery, be weary We shed the skins of our former, unripe life Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty Our wills are rivers, carving through stony indifference Acts of love and words of kindness cut through strife To grow is walking a serene valley you fill of plenty Seeking truth in every course, holding every moment near Learning to read the signs that speak beyond lies, run rife Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty Now, in this quest for meaning, stripped of all pretense, So give thanks; awakened to join the dance found underlife To grow is to walk a serene valley you fill of plenty Become the silence of your actions, pure and steady, Find yourselves, your souls, burning fate's own woodknife Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty, To grow is to walk a serene valley you fill of plenty