Happiness

Happiness

is not a general thing.

It is not a state

it moves

and is digested

like salad leaves

off the plate.

 

Happiness

is not what is.

At rest it disappears

it is the eye of interest

a going there

a doing that

a mind that remakes all

an embracing even of that

which against us might just fall.

 

Happiness

is not a thing.

A car, a child that is mine

it is what can be

what might we always find

never looking behind

it is that fear unfounded

because the eye is up ahead.

Happiness a kind of compass

memory unbled.

 

Happiness

is what is alive.

That is each moment more

in interest

in possibility

how in thought

we can walk through

every door

pushed by the question

what is this life for?

 

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