Happiness
Happiness seems to be so fleeting. Like when you go on that vacation you saved up for. Visible in memory and snapshots. It never seems to stand still unless your in it. Like that old school homie you just knew that day in the diner talkin shit over cheese fries, wouldn't end up so far. Only to recall passing that street where you'd eat. Recalled in the heat of passion with ya honey.
Always that carrot we chasing. Maybe in that fat 100k a year gig, that new vehicle, or new music you just purchased or just made for that matter. It's disguised in iloveyous and telephone calls. But always manages to be just one step ahead or a plane ticket away.
We put our requirements on happiness. Seemingly wraped in a bundle of conditional joy. If I could just... If he would just... If we could just... Could what? Rise? When that condition is attained there always seems to be another weed to replace the one just picked. Aren't dandelions weeds that bloom and become blown away wishes whispered on a breeze?
Why does it appear so hard to find that happiness in what you already have, whats in you face. Instead of relish it in whats far gone or just out of reach? Ain't happy to have a j.o.b. to go to in the morning to make the paper. Ain't happy to not have a j.o.b. to go to in the morning, not making paper. Ain't happy with yo bucket thats road worthy. Ain't happy with the nice whip that's off the road. Ain't happy with the company you keep. Ain't happy not keeping company. Shit be happy if simply for your health and another day to make it all different. But even that so often seems to ellude us.
Why does happiness at times seem to seep into the cracks of that uninsulated tenament like displaced heat. Remember what it feels like to be warm.
I do know happiness can't be trapped.
Why isn't happiness enough more often than not?
whoknows
