The Note Of Joy

Afternoon rain, blanketing somewhere
Those somewhere, rather nowhere
Sitting down, caught by surprise,
Reveling in someone's troubled eyes
Seeing passion, seeking free,
No end to their destiny
Intertwined and permeated
Such dreams dilapidated.

Pathos granted, motions set
Upon the desire to be let,
Answering the questions
Staring into the oppression
Opening the jaws of synergy
Into fascinating formations of energy,
The door is answered, the said said
And the repressed memories are shed.

If there's really to be happiness, there must be a note of joy left somewhere among the remains of our altercations with ourselves. I am fortunate and blessed to have others read that note from themselves to me when I forget where I put mine. I'd hold it in my hand but I could easily crumple it because I'd hold onto it too much. The solution is thus to keep it close and to form the habit of reading it often.

Let the story thus be told
In a manner that shines true gold
And let no obstacle stand in its way
So it can be heard by ears far away
Or those that are close, that wish to listen
To a word unspoken, unwritten, unhindered
Of faith.