The Flow Of Incandescence

Money is the language Western culture speaks
While in the East we wonder who eats
As we clamber together a mountain of rocks
And live our lives by the heartbeat of clocks
Do we really know where we’re going
I’m stressing and, baby, I think that it’s showing
Do I have a destiny to live up to
Or am I just throwing shapes at you
As I move in the room through the embrace of air
The nothing that’s something and ever there
As we all return to the Tao that gives birth
To learn and live the lessons of hurt
Of the pain that transforms
Mere weather into thunderstorms

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