Instead of a mine he just finds
A well in a far way land
In a caterpillar steps he closes in
And descents down to quench his thirst
The cool glass of water gives him peace
In mind and in soul
But people say still he is in discomfort
In the world of matter and finance
Rushes back he unpleasant
And here and there he is found digging
The soil is not stale or rotten
Nor is the womb of the earth is barren
It is only his way of searching
And his choosing of place is wrong
There how he dares to find gold
Where is water this world holds?
He may bitterly curse or utter harsh words
Or like a defeated fox he may laugh
But this world is not a wrong place
The wrong lies tight in his self
The wind is kind enough here
The light of the sun is too generous
You cannot blame the rain either
When it falls, it drenches equally all
So grow at your own will
Or perish by your own choice
Except few exception
This world has nothing to do.