Now I face a spring
Which fountains
Just beneath my feet,
Reflecting my true self
In its ejecting bubbling.
Then I will probably face
The dark side of a rocky cave,
Which nowadays has
A deeply philosophical meaning.
Sitting on top of a mossy stone,
My mind takes the shape
Of an orphaned cloud --
On the run, it has nothing
To be used for clinging onto.
All the worldly things
I have left far behind;
Why on earth should I chase
After any hard-to-get value?
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If I read your poem right. The best things in life are free.
Ron