Sitting by the river.
Letting the wind whisper songs from far away.
Doing nothing.
No analysis. No plans. No action.
Just acceptance. Thinking of nothing.
No hate. No love. No enviousness.
Just acceptance.
Of yourself. Of others.
Of the cosmos itself.
Happiness does seem to come for free.
(Are you willing to die?)
What could be more expensive than that?
Poetic Philosophy 