What is this thing called Happiness?
I search and search, but I confess
That some days of searching high and low,
it feels as if, happiness is suppressed
No matter where I am, how far I go.
Feeling Lonely, lost and dispossessed.
My heart, mind, body, and soul often thinks, is this a test?
I know happiness is out there, I have to believe.
but while I endlessly search without sleep or rest,
this cruel world is ever ready to deceive.
Though challenges are around every corner,
the search for the secret to happiness must be achieved.
Or is life just a meaningless empty space?
God’s creative vision totally misconceived?
This questioning in my mind is a disgrace,
God would never allow me to continue being this peeved.
Yet when the darkness holds me in its embrace,
I cannot but feel bitterly aggrieved.
With gritted teeth, I become red in the face,
Am I worthy of happiness to be received?
and yet, before I fall and sink without a trace
a ray of hope lifts me, a miracle to be believed.
This warm fuzzy feeling as if my heart is being embraced,
a feeling washes over me, I hope I’m not being teased.
As happiness emerges from a forgotten deep place
The tormenting brooding darkness is finally eased.
God lent his hands and darkest clouds soon were erased
The sunlight poured through and the negativity soon ceased.
For now, the battle ends leaving just an aftertaste
I have fought off once again that dark depressive beast.
There is light at this terribly long tunnel, and so I race
my longing for happiness, my running towards it increased.
I discover, at last, that life is a mad steeplechase
and this thing called happiness is like a strange feast.
Beckie and I have been passing this poem backwards and forwards taking it in turns to write additional lines. I think it has worked out really well. Many of you may have followed the process all along, but it is nice to have it all together in one place.
I am so proud of this poem that Beckie and I have created, we worked really well together and made a great team.
I hope you like this poem.