(A reflection on the second half of Verse Eight, to the beat – or tune – of “Holy, Holy, Holy”)
Empty, empty, empty
Empty of distortion
Empty of I, me, my, mine
Not permanent, not nothing
Empty, empty, empty
Empty like a womb
Empty too of emptiness
With all things always possible
Empty, empty, empty
Empty of all grasping
Free from delusion’s cause
Compassion’s power is loosed
_______________________
Copyright Deborah McGlauflin 2010. All rights reserved.
