No goal to seek, no guided hand.
He flows along, just like the tide,
Content to simply take the ride.
Yet nothing’s left undone, you see,
No hopes to chase, no “ought to be.”
No residue of past regret,
No future binds, no loss to fret.
The spirit’s lost, yet always near,
It’s found in moments soft and clear.
In depths, the surface fades away,
As flowers bloom and fruits decay.
He treasures both, in calm embrace,
At peace with time, in perfect grace.
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