Blossom of Happiness 🌼 What is this thing called happiness, I ask? I search outside but fail in every task. The light of childhood fades into the mist, And life inside feels silent, uninsist. This quiet pain, contained within my chest, Still pleads for warmth, a soul that longs for rest. Happiness should arise from inner air, A breath of being, present everywhere. Not bound to joy, nor anchored in delight, But nature’s spark that calmly gives us light. Perhaps one day I’ll let its roots take hold, And suffering will soften, lose its cold. A flower blooming past despair and woe, To flourish in my garden, gently grow. And if it bursts in fragrant bloom one day, New verses will reflect a brighter way.
MAIORES DE IDADE (+18). Sou Patrick Raymundo de Moraes. Investidor, comunicador social e escritor membro da Câmara Brasileira do Livro (CBL). Literatura, Direito, Análises, Críticas, Poemas e Quadrinhos! Errando sempre, mas sempre em frente!... This blog uses cookies from Amazon, Google, Blogger, Double Click and Gravatar.