The Paradox Of Happiness

Happiness is a feathered-stone with wings In a rushed world that ceases to stop It seems illusory and perhaps non existent Where many strive, yet few seem to find It's like the diamond buried miles below Where so few have the patience to dig Happiness is rarely found but often realised As many spend a lifetime seeking Only to find the dust cloud left behind For it seems one does not find happiness Rather happiness finds the one That does not seek it through externalism Happiness is an internal realisation That often grows from the soil of a heavy heart It's the seed of pain that blossoms to wisdom The kind that no forrest fire can devour The choice and acceptance that beauty exists In our own truth and authenticity Happiness is as a green leaf or raging river It's beauty exists in the effortlessness of just being