Happiness is not a symphony
But a tune whistled into
the breeze…..
The bubble floating by,
Would lose its rainbows
When grasped
With rough and anxious hands
The beauty of this moment
Would lose its magic
When studied under the
microscope of reason,
So that all its translucent beauty
Wilts in the heat of enquiry
The intoxicating beauty
Of flowers in a dream
Would droop and fade
In the noon day of sober thought.