The Wedding
Sometimes things are up,
And sometimes they are down,
Sometimes black is white,
And sometimes it is brown.
All the rivers flowing,
Back to the sacred sea,
All the monkeys climbing,
Up the very same tree.
You think you know a lot,
Think you know it all,
But the autumn leaves are falling,
At the north wind's lonely call.
The thinking of the meaning,
The reasons lost and gone,
At last the place is ready,
A vacant holy throne.
The emptiness that fill you,
Fills you from inside,
Is the treasure you are holding,
The bridegroom's holy bride.
And now the north wind's blowing,
Blowing down the Way,
And now we sit here waiting,
For the bridegroom's wedding day.
more at http://labyrinthoflies.com
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