It goes down the hill bumping.. 

unfettered, from all the shackles emancipating.. 

 sometimes bruised by the undulations,nothing it needs 

Sometimes caressed by the velvetty flowers Sometimes tickled by the outgrown wild weeds 

 Gusts of winds aiding it in the mirthful odyssey

 There is no one stopping it..no looking back.finally.. 

 It belonged to the hill unknown It is liberated now.. It is the rolling stone... 

 How good it would be to be like a rolling stone ?

 Carefree roll down the undulated hill ... Breakfree ...you have arrived..let the world be known...