This morning, the birds are singing outside
A sheet of gray clouds hangs over the sky
Like a soft, warm canopy
A sheet of gray clouds hangs over the sky
Like a soft, warm canopy
The work-week is beginning, but I am still
I hear the wind rustling through the trees
It whispers the names of God
I hear the wind rustling through the trees
It whispers the names of God
The teeming life outside calls back in response
It is here, in the eternal now, that the suffering
Of all beings dissolves into the formlessness
That permeates everything
It is here, in the eternal now, that the suffering
Of all beings dissolves into the formlessness
That permeates everything
