Through all of the seasons
I wonder why/
Caught in swift currents
And unfruitful tries.
And I try to reason
What no one can know/
It's hard to distinguish
The tinsel from gold.
My spirit is waiting
For my body to let go/
And I pass this cold plane
As the wind blows.
The wind so empty--
No content no goal/
This life only has worth
When body is subject to soul.
Through all of the seasons
Now I know why/
Learning from swift currents
With more fruitful tries.
And I know the reasons--
The ones I should know/
And even for wise people
All that glitters is not gold.