His benign look is rich enough

 His benign look is rich enough.

Dont call me filthy rich
for I own some landed
property, all of  my own
sweat  and   blood, ground
still wet with smell of toil
grounded in sickle and bent;     
 self   earned income;

No pride of rental income
 nor any booming flow of
harvest and copious corns,
for aridity and parchment
strikes here, parchement
in man's tongue and heart
like whirlpool rolling on;

 somewhere  far off, cascade
of water flow as if catchment areas,
could be  cheering dawn in my heart
of hope and  undulated Faith
consoling like a Mantra from Heaven.
I move on, there is no time for specuation.
Time's serendipity in and out pouring .