Happiness is a By-Product

You could fill your house with
Ninety-nine red balloons, the kind that
Glimmer in the sun and shine in the
Black light, and you could
Fill your room with rainbow pinwheels, the
Ones that spin into white nothingness, the
Kind that children buy at the carnivals, and
You could paint your walls with the light inside of
You, extracting every inch of joy and mixing it with
Cheap acrylic paint that peels off while you
Use it, but I’m almost certain, that one day, when
The ninety-nine red balloons that you kept so
Carefully in your living room finally reduce to a mere
Collection of deflated plastic, and the rainbow
Pinwheels that danced next to your
Window suddenly stop and disintegrate into shards of
Construction paper, and the paintings on your
Wall lose their illumination, you will realise that
You cannot catch gaiety in colours or objects or
Paraphernalia, and you cannot possibly trap your
Mind in hypnotising swirls of made-up joy, and you will
Realise that happiness is a by-product of
Life, and we acquire it simply by being.



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