Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Time of Day...

The analysis of happiness.
What is happiness? Can it be contained?
Tamed? Controlled? Triggered?
Can sunshine sway temperance?
Warmth of the sun, feeding feeling
Feeding skin that vitamin, browning lightly
Soothed, sleepy, sonnets of siesta take root.
Solar food.

Is happiness found in 'knowing'?
In understanding of what we yearn to understand?
Are these tendrils branching from the root of contentedness?
How does contentment relate to happiness?
These philosophies are ballooning, lifting
Answering naught. Coins chinking together
In a purse with holes, leading to a pocket, well-worn.

Memory too, frequents this place
Twinkling in the darkness of eloquent potential.
What memories pair well with which days?
When hands jumble the worth of what has been clutched,
How does happiness then, find its way into the equation?
A full pocket with strongly sewn holes?
Warm and discerning when optimism parks its countenance?
Who is to say?

This night has been distilled by the slumping of a ten-hour shift
Shoulders long for over-stuffed cushions, and a low-lit room.
I no longer bring myself to mention companionship.
It's unrealistic. Incomprehensible. Unreal.
How can happiness find a home here, on this night
Where the dull moan of a long day deflates from cubicle life.
Perhaps morning is a wiser choice when energies first rise
And smile with the sun.

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