Happiness is...

...is what?
This fleeting feeling?
Fluttering feathers free falling?
Perpetual masquerading masks?

Such antiquated beauty
with no peculiar flavor.

I am not certain I know happiness.
Nor will know it as long as I might think.
The happiest I can be
is being enraptured in the second
so as to engage my soul
and not let it wander into the shadows.

I am told to relax.
Forget and indulge.
But...I am me.
Is this not enough?
Why must such things be said
when they only hurt?



I will not know it when it comes.
Nor see it as it leaves.
But as the door closes
and I sit here in pain
I might rejoice that
the visage of the Muse
staid by reality
and that we may only meet
only under the cover
of moonlight
as we stroll down the lanes of our souls.

This is truth enough
that pain will exist
until the earth is ripped asunder
and placed back right.

This is truth enough
that love will never die
but oh will it be delayed
until the dying moment
and I take my last breath.


Perpetual thoughts
just falling from your sky
in shades of gray
and falling on your plans,
what more can you want from life?

Breath.
Live.
Hunger.
Search.
Desire.
Despair.
Hope.
Death.
Resurrection.

Joy in the fleeting seconds
between horror and pain,
hope that the dawn will come
and even when it will not
that the death will not be in vain.

Will not.
Is.
Shall never.
Ultima.