happiness always returns
like a homecoming pigeon
so keep warm your urn
when it comes
serve it tea, listen and learn
you furrow, you burrow
you wallow in sorrow
so stuck in the present
digging your grave
don’t know there is morrow
What possible power do you have,
except to acknowledge you’re powerless.
Perhaps you’re barred from happiness,
because you think you can control,
it’s coming and going.
Like a gatekeeper who’s fallen asleep,
it enters, and you don’t see it,
it leaves and you awaken from it’s footsteps,
too ashamed to be exposed for your slumber,
you greet it goodbye and don’t know who it is,
nor how long it stayed and gave you a chance to acknowledge it.