Classic Poem

yesterday I went to a cloud observatory
and met some Taoist priests
star caps and moon capes askew
they said we inhabit hill and stream
I asked them the art of immortality
they said how could we presume
for what's called the spirit sublime
the elixir must be the secret of the gods
till death we wait for a crane
and they said we'll ride off on a fish
later I thought this through
and concluded they were crazy
just look at an arrow shot into space
in a moment it falls back down
even if they do become immortals
they'll just be corpse-haunting ghosts
the moon of the mind is so perfectly clear
how can phenomena compare
if you want to know the art of immortals
within yourself is the first of spirits
don't follow Masters of the Yellow Turban
holding onto idiocy maintaining doubt