Happiness, a silent dawn, is born beneath the eyelids of sleep

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.