We will speak as empty bowls, with beguiling space within.
We will speak as empty bowls, without inner clutter blocking listening, learning and free exchange of existence.
We’ll speak as empty bowls, with no residue of the unresolved coating our senses; without the small change of fear clinking in storage.
We will speak quite free of passion, which is prejudice with lipstick; but rather, as an empty bowl, holding nothing; no dark agenda to stain this once-in-a-lifetime now.
This empty bowl: a clear and present manger, for the birth of good things.
