"Language
that does not pass away..."
You say this persists?
After seventeen of our centuries
and twenty of yours?
And you know my words?
One must be dead an eternity
To be so favored
For much happiness
comes from knowing
you know my words.
Yet in those years
I didn’t know I could be happy
I complained
I am in distress because of my
heart,
It is the cause of suffering,
yet I say nothing about it!
Another heart would show respect . . .
And listen to my words.
A change of heart then,
not by transplant
But by a cloudy day seen
as rainbow driven.
Umbrellas used to deflect
nature’s ammunition.
Happiness —not Polly Anna-isims
to balance one’s commitments.
I could not find the words.
Egypt’s history like yours sought
Wars for security. Not very useful.
Not even to define by contrast
what happiness is
Nor when ended, to provide
the happiness men could know.
Dictionaries provide words
that work better.
Then Happiness must become
the new language.
That, does not pass away.
In all it’s multiplicity one comes
to know it.
One brief word at a time. |