Happiness

Happiness,
elusive
as the gossamer winged butterfly,
all the more beautiful when,
unexpectedly,
it lights upon you,
a wonder in the moment,
before it flits away
a disappearing flickering of impossible blue,
a sparkling instant of brilliance
flashing in the verdant green rainforest distance of your mind,
among the pink and yellow flowers.
It is radiant,
captivating;
a dew drop –
a crystal orb –
glistening on a bright spring leaf
before it slips
slips
slips
away.

I see you now,
standing, watching,
waiting for its return.
It will return,
as bright as the bluest butterfly,
as pure as a drop of dew,
but happiness comes more surely
to those who busy themselves,
those who move along,
those who pull their eyes away
from the horizon
and live.

So go now, child,
go and live,
explore the forest floor,
climb the stately trees,
sweep through the fragrant flowers,
breathing deeply,
and catch a drop of dew
in the palm of your hand.
For before you know it,
the fluttering,
the light breath of wings,
will have returned
and you will feel it before you see the blue,
you will feel the wings of the butterfly
beating
in your heart.

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