What is it to be happy?
Is it a constant state of mind,
A barrier which holds strong
Against every adversity, trial or loss?
A calm confidence which stops you from breaking
Even when the world is closing up on you?
or is happiness found only in fleeting moments,
In a distant memory, stale laughter, almost forgotten dreams?
Is it just a pause
Between the tireless grief that is life,
A moment of cool relief merely to hold on to
When daily you burn in the heat of life?
Do you have to seek happiness,
Knocking shamelessly until you find it?
Or does it come to you,
And embrace you in a moment unexpected?
Is happiness real, or is it just a superstition we invent
To bring some meaning to our senseless lives?