Happiness, is the first feel of texture
Of soft hands swathed around me
On the day of my rupture;
That this world I could see;
Happiness, is the everlasting realization
Of the shade of loving hands, raining dewy bless
Delicate fabric of robust passion
Merging of whine and caress;
Happiness, is what I imbibe
When I conjoin myself with Him; .
Happiness, is the honey in the hive
Of bees of impeccable faith, buzzing hymn;
Happiness, is gazing out of window
With the summer noon winking at you
Images of your beloved, looming slow,
This boiling earth, and the boiling you.
Happiness is the octahedral joystick
Of love, the loss of yourself
Of contentment, the full of yourself,
Of beauty, the gracious temptation,
Of darkness, the swallowing separation,
Of future, the to-be
Of past, the memory
Of life, the yearning
And death, the resting.
