Silently, silently; l go about my business; watching people rushing by, faces of stone and worry, cant help them, no not l.
l wonder about their dear old hearts, and how they pump with rush and anxieties; l cant help them, no, not l.
late, when all is quietening, l look out onto the street, and see so many so tired, and dead on their feet.
And for what reason l may ask, ...
ln a few days time, it will all be still, and getting up and around will take a lot of your tired will.
For what reason did u rush, then sit exhausted when all is hush.
My gift for you is my silent compassion mantra, your suffering l understand and feel, yet l cannot help, oh no not I.
l wish for all to see a silent christmas, not one of rush; one of hush, a thought for what it means, or, dont do it at all.
Hypocrits youll become, if you dont do and be true, to you alone.
Gifts of material, o so wrong, gifts of the heart always sing a song...