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Poem

Happiness, a silent dawn, is born beneath the eyelids of sleep,
Smiling like a stolen kiss from paradise,
In the dream of the night that just melted into the morning light.
It is the love for the morning
You always despised, now illuminated by a different hope.
Happiness, the sudden revelation of a smile
Curled on your cheeks, a secret unknown,
Is being a jester of your own inner world.
Happiness, a mad dance amidst daily chores,
Is the energy that fills your soul,
A burning desire to set everything in order, to make everything shine.
Happiness, staring fixedly at a blank page for days,
Is not knowing what to write about,
Because you are too elated, too full of life to find the words.
And yet, I dread this:
To trade the moon that embraced me tenderly,
To trade the nights where the ceiling grew weary
Of my lost gazes,
To trade the darkness that consoled me
For a small, cold glimpse of light.
I do not know how to be happy
Without feeling I’ve done a great injustice to the universe.
I am in constant penitence
For these empty pages, for the unfulfilled dreams.
I have survived the vast ocean of sorrow;
I fear I cannot survive the calm shore of happiness.
Happiness, a fragile dream in which I lose myself,
Is like a spider web, delicate and ephemeral,
Stretched between the silently falling stars,
It embraces me with its fragile arms,
And I fear to break it,
To chase it away with my burning, unbridled desires.
In the depths of the night, I seek solace
In the darkness, I find my peace,
But happiness, my rare and precious guest,
Whispers stories I cannot listen to without losing myself.
I glimpse it among the shadows of my thoughts,
But I retreat, fearful,
Not to lose it, not to lose myself in its overwhelming light.

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