Happiness

happiness is not
a stagnant pool
within,
it is not an arrival
nor a destination;

happiness rests,
elusive, alive,
in the flow
of this moment -
the shimering waves,
the broken reflections,
the becoming, and
the 'un'-becoming;

happiness is
the sweet anticipation
of a crescendo, and
the impending hollow
of sameness
where all the flippant notes
fall back to;

happiness seeks you
like little children
coming home
from school,
when you rest
in this moment,
knowing in your bones
that you are perfect,
that you are already home;

happiness is the butterfly
coming to rest
on your steady shoulder,
when you stop chasing it
through the endless meadows,
when you are ready
to be still and present
with yourself
and life.