Joy is a state of being,
Not of having.
In the moment that it comes,
There is supreme wellbeing–
Instant and independent of one’s physical state.
And then, too quickly, it departs,
Leaving only the memory
Of having been,
And the longing to know it again.
Too long have I maintained
An even temper, a stoic response
To misfortune, loss, or pain.
Too long since I have laughed aloud,
But merely showed the tired nod
Of mirthless affirmation.
I am not unhappy;
I do not lack for what I need.
Most of what I wished for has been mine.
The heart beats, the lungs breathe,
The body moves at my command.
Yet, incessantly the mind reflects
Upon its ultimate destination.
What has made it worth the years?
Why did I wake and work and sleep?
Why did I eat and grow and learn,
And why did I birth my babes?
Only a few jewels worth the cost:
Discovery–a problem solved.
Beauty of perfect execution
And perfect expression of form.
Falling in love. Need I say more?
A first taste of something delicious.
A cat or dog who loves you,
As much as you love it.
Getting warm when you are cold.
And joy–out of nowhere, for no reason,
Often just when it’s needed:
The sense of one’s True Home.