The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,

Red and gold leaves Falling, Sing to me Of the season of change, Before the snow,

Life is not fair at times... But of course things Change quickly down the line, We are born into a No guarantee world.

This evening the blank, white page is open. My nerves are on edge, while a storm forms on the horizon.

In the noble purpose of my life, In the clear and quiet chamber Of my soul, In the open and warm cave Of my heart,

Embrace that which comes with ease: The twinkling of an eye, The drumbeat of a heart, The blooming of a flower,

Red sun in the morning rolling up the side of earth. The sky turned pink, as a ball of fire showed it’s strength,

Perhaps it is the mind separating things into this and that. Perhaps it is the mind with it’s preferences

Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry

Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy

When you are not here An empty heart full of fear Arises and wonders If I will see you again. What will I do without

Oh billionaires! How you have lost your soul, lost the goal and kneel down

If I could go back in time I would fix my wrongs, I would sing new songs And mend all hate And open the gate

Standing at a crossroad Between this life And the next, Heart in hand I knock on that