What's fundamental, ties us to the "ism"?
It's not this raft, this dharma we've been on.
It's not the face that I have never seen.
It only is the heart I've always known.
The one that first loved me, whose voice I heard
Out crying in the wilderness, within
The midst of some wild burning bush that would
Not be consumed, that brought peace onto me.
The voice that called wise men to follow on,
That speaks directions from the stars to any
Who'd hear the call to find their personal
Glimpse of a deity, or of our species.
The spirit into which we are baptised
Calls, whispers peace on us, our dreams realized.
