The Happiness Machine

You cannot trap it in a box; it's not a thing you tightly grip. It's in the breeze of summertime, as rain is falling drop by drip. Though happiness machines are made to capture all our plans and schemes, a tethered wish can never fly, but often crashes with our dreams. And happiness cannot be bought, for treasure builds anxiety, as fortunes made and fortunes lost are patterns carved by history. You cannot keep in on a shelf; it can't be pickled, canned, or stored. It comes and goes but never hides, within a dark magicians hoard. And no machine can make it stay; it's in the budding of a rose. It's in the laughter of a child; it's in a kiss I would suppose. It's here, where seasons come and go, when youth and passion are the rage, and too, when youth and passion fade, it's in the wisdom of the sage. You know quite well what I will say. Oh yes, it's not so hard to find. It's in your heart and attitude; just look around, and use your mind. It's in your family living room, it's scattered all across your lawn, it's in the setting of the sun. and in the wakening of dawn. Happiness resides within, yet it is almost everywhere, it's in the preciousness of life, it's in our every hope and prayer.