Pilgrim, lift your weary face
Why would God ever turn one of us away?
Why would we ever turn away from God?
Preacher Man! Do not lace the gospel
with the poison of your prejudice and fear
Better remain dumb
than to cause even one to stumble
into hell
Love knows no doctrine
no boundaries
no words
Love has no opposite
embraces all
My friend
we have all known the long loneliness
have even curled upon the midnight earth
and prayed for the sleep that never ends
Come, rest your head upon my shoulder
All I have is yours
None of it was ever mine
If I can be of any comfort
or encouragement
then all my days have been worthwhile
Look to the canopy of the stars
and you will find Him
Whisper at the source of the stream
and She is there
Listen for the Silence
that holds your heartbeat
Feed the hungry
and you too shall be fed
The saints will never cease from intercession
The bodhisattvas will never leave the wheel
until all have passed through Heaven’s
ever open gateless gates
Pilgrim, lift your weary face
and feel the breeze
that traces the trails of all your tears
It is the breeze
of the breath
of the Mother’s song
that ever calls
and guides us home
It is the breeze
of the dance
of the Father’s joy
at the feast
of your return
Why would God ever turn one of us away?
Why would we ever turn away from God?
Preacher Man! Do not lace the gospel
with the poison of your prejudice and fear
Better remain dumb
than to cause even one to stumble
into hell
Love knows no doctrine
no boundaries
no words
Love has no opposite
embraces all
My friend
we have all known the long loneliness
have even curled upon the midnight earth
and prayed for the sleep that never ends
Come, rest your head upon my shoulder
All I have is yours
None of it was ever mine
If I can be of any comfort
or encouragement
then all my days have been worthwhile
Look to the canopy of the stars
and you will find Him
Whisper at the source of the stream
and She is there
Listen for the Silence
that holds your heartbeat
Feed the hungry
and you too shall be fed
The saints will never cease from intercession
The bodhisattvas will never leave the wheel
until all have passed through Heaven’s
ever open gateless gates
Pilgrim, lift your weary face
and feel the breeze
that traces the trails of all your tears
It is the breeze
of the breath
of the Mother’s song
that ever calls
and guides us home
It is the breeze
of the dance
of the Father’s joy
at the feast
of your return