I am content here
in my open
with the trees and the birds that sing
and the clouds above
and the moon that radiates at night;
and the feel of the warmth of the sun on my
arms and chest and legs
and the feel of the cool water
on my face;
not for me all the revelations
and the vanities
and the theories
and the pomposity
of the life here
and the life hereafter;
for I am content here
in my open
with the trees and the birds that sing