I have heard it said that because Singapore is not seasonal, we do not experience a proper rhythm of life. There is the abundance of spring, the melancholy of autumn, the solitude of winter and the messiness of spring when nature expresses itself. It portrays the manifold moments of life as well as spirituality.
The Chinese poets have a unique way of saying that there is always a way out, akin to the Christian marketplace saying "He will make a way, where there seems to be no way".
For most people, the point of travel is to reach a destination. You climb a mountain to reach its peak, and similarly, when you reach the end of the river, it looks like it is time to turn back. But the poet here instead decides to sit down and watch the rise of the clouds. What do you know? There is yet another scenery to behold!