Life moves at a constant pace,
Matching the tempo of an unknown race,
We steer ahead in a trance,
Uncertain, we reach a place.
Strangely, it does not suit our quest.
What to anticipate, what to admit,
How do we measure the loss and profit?
How to weigh our victories and defeats?
Fastened with the threads of association,
We fail to notice the worth of our own.
Every other task held esteem,
Have we failed to redeem?
The bubbles of joy, that foam,
Unrestrained it lingers in the space of time,
Have the trivial moments ceased to exist?
Or are we erring, ebbing away, perceiving it to be a mist?
The fog abridges,
A flimsy layer of happiness
Settles as dew drops
On the blades of grass, waiting to be felt, touched,
Before it shrinks, silently wilting with the daylight.
Happiness is a preference, a mindset,
Stifled within us,
All the while, we have been seeking it outside.