Sometime ago someone did deem
While rowing in a boat down stream
That life was really but a dream
So are things really as they seem?
That “stuff” will happen – foregone conclusion
Our meaning imposed – creates illusion
Without perspective – leads to seclusion
No light of truth – life of delusion
Life can be seen as a great blank screen
Where we decide just what things mean
You are the artist you hold the brush
Judgmental labels perhaps you rush
This thing you see it’s real you say
Seen by another a different way
Are they right – therefore you’re wrong?
Or perhaps both views in fact belong
Life can be lived within the flow
It first requires one just let go
As I recall what’s instrumental
Is that our rowing – remains gentle
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