Empty Bowls

Empty Bowls

The well is dry, the well is dry,
And yet the pen writes on
While men search empty bowls for a reason.
Just one spoonful, they yearn,
But it’s not there.
Hungry and thirsty pens seek vanity’s allure.

The river flows, the river flows,
From the Fountainhead of truth and life.
He had it written with a pen of iron,
With the point of a diamond.

Why dally at the dry well, you hungry and thirsty men?
Hewing, hewing your empty bowls.
Writing, writing your empty books.
Singing, singing your empty songs.
Learning, learning, but never coming
Never coming to the knowledge of the truth.

Point your wise fingers and laugh
While you drink your sand.
The righteous will forsake his bowl,
And shall be refreshed.