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
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