Happiness, where is your dwelling in the ancient hideaway

Happiness, where is your dwelling in the ancient hideaway? Like a mantra of light murmured under the parchment of silence, Like a dream springing from the mystery of the ephemeral void, Darkness of forgetfulness enfolds you, you vanish into the deep quiet of a slumbering heart. You ascend, a spectral light, over the purified vastness of the sky, You are the rested field beneath the blind halo of the blooming sun, The oceanic mind embraced in the beams of absolute love, Dreamer in this secrecy, yet you breathe, beating the pulse of the unknowable. But does pain touch you, boundless in its reach? Intensely felt agony, shadows emerge in silence, Filling you with hope hidden beneath the eyelashes of trickling tears, Pain is a gilded key to the kingdom where life ends and renews. Pain watches over like a matriarch of fate, weaving your paths, Casts alliances onto the knife's edge around which you entwine, Lights up stubborn thoughts with the flame of discernment, Adorns women with glittering scarves, stands sentinel at the door of forsaken love. What does the pain of those who love with the thrill of passion rationalize? I am powerless to foresee, But it colors with spectral flowers and pearls stained with ink, dreams and poetry, Offers a thousand kisses, abundantly, but only one amongst them is the true hour. Pain connects intricate veils, it melds and processes the forms of uncertainty, It offers all that life can flow most bountifully: Love, the quietude of solitude, the blizzard of death.