Riches, we’re yet to touch

Plentiful, perhaps too much

To hold it, we must drop

What we pursue nonstop

It may not be material

Real riches are ethereal

They wait to be mined

Right behind the mind

Those riches will last

It is already amassed

We must ready our hands

Empty, without demands

We will find the riches

It’s only a few inches

Behind the searching eyes

Outside, it’s an illusory prize