Tao Easy

Tao Easy:

At times I write a song that has been given to me.
Intense visuals, belated meanings hidden by immediate urges.
Easy dissolving the foreign, unwanted sounds.
The music speaks the words
the pen documents the music
Someone who isn’t me finds the outlet and purges.
But my name sits next to the profound.

Other times I must pull a stubbornness out of my tightly clenched mind.
Introspectiveness comes as expression or insanity.
Residing in the sun, but living in the hills.
Staying in my boots
ready to be unprepared
There’s a frustration in being the man in me.
And being the man in the Easy Vie is what kills.

They are both right in their disagreement.
One cannot exist without the balance of its pole.
For all the material of the bowl, we use the empty space.
In the chilling light of death
I see the unblemished face of life
It’s alright, ma, it’s only my soul
Not a hair moves in this torrential place.