on happiness (a newer poem)
on happiness
21 June 2002
“… I find, to my astonishment, I am no longer afraid of happiness, I feel, I do not know why, that it will be a master, clearer and more powerful than any of the griefs I have known.” – Andrew Harvey
today I want to write about happiness,
how a full heart is not a moment in time,
but a piece of a permanent puzzle
crafted by Love in Its own image.
I mean, the monsoon season is here
the winds swept into the sheer joy of movement
blowing the trees every which way & back again,
encouraging the giddiness of rain-drops
flung
through the air
by the air,
each gust a wet rapture dance
but
this too shall pass
& behind the tempest of wind
riding the electrified rumble of dark clouds
lies the immutable calm of air.
& behind the air, sky.
sky, air, stillness,
silence in all directions.
happiness only is.
I used to chart the winding path of my life
by traces different storms had left behind:
a broken tree branch,
a flooded road,
a house incinerated by lightning.
now I am living a life that is no longer my own,
a life that owns no chronological evidence,
no trace,
no storm,
no history by which to recognize itself.
each heartbeat is an event.
one day the repetition will stop.
this life, however,
the One Heart pulsing in the silence,
the One Silence which knows
how to lie within & beyond the sky,
has no end.
& that no end
knows itself
by its only true name:
Happiness.
~
21 June 2002
“… I find, to my astonishment, I am no longer afraid of happiness, I feel, I do not know why, that it will be a master, clearer and more powerful than any of the griefs I have known.” – Andrew Harvey
today I want to write about happiness,
how a full heart is not a moment in time,
but a piece of a permanent puzzle
crafted by Love in Its own image.
I mean, the monsoon season is here
the winds swept into the sheer joy of movement
blowing the trees every which way & back again,
encouraging the giddiness of rain-drops
flung
through the air
by the air,
each gust a wet rapture dance
but
this too shall pass
& behind the tempest of wind
riding the electrified rumble of dark clouds
lies the immutable calm of air.
& behind the air, sky.
sky, air, stillness,
silence in all directions.
happiness only is.
I used to chart the winding path of my life
by traces different storms had left behind:
a broken tree branch,
a flooded road,
a house incinerated by lightning.
now I am living a life that is no longer my own,
a life that owns no chronological evidence,
no trace,
no storm,
no history by which to recognize itself.
each heartbeat is an event.
one day the repetition will stop.
this life, however,
the One Heart pulsing in the silence,
the One Silence which knows
how to lie within & beyond the sky,
has no end.
& that no end
knows itself
by its only true name:
Happiness.
~
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