happiness
/ what does happy even mean?
I had a conversation last night that ran deep
For the first time in a while, I was asked if I was happy.
We both laughed and scoffed, I didn't need to answer,
But it led us both to reflect together and ponder.
What even is happiness?
We asked each other
Perhaps it's what you feel when there's no chasing left to be done
We reasoned maybe we'd just not known it for the rat races run
But then I suggested, what if that's wrong?
What if it's a fugazi, a fraud, a lie and a con?
What if it's just a moment in time?
A minute little window between reality's grinds.
It was a sobering thought though melancholic in spirit,
Maybe it's not a state you'll reach one day and let tomorrow inherit.
The older I get the less about happiness I seem to know,
Maybe to be happy really is an illusion and perhaps to know it I'll always forego.
So what even is happiness?
I can't say I know
But I hope one day I'll bask in it's glow.
.
.
About the Creator
Tommy Ballard
I'm a professional writer, a poet, a digital artist and an amateur musician. In my free time, I can often be found pondering magnets, breaking and entering random homes to steal locks of human hair and throwing car batteries into the ocean.
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Comments (1)
Such a fickle thing it can be, happiness, especially when it can mean many different things to different people. I really enjoyed the writing and insight in this poem!