happiness
is internal. happy souls breed happiness. so, what makes us happy?
equal
yokes or sincerity or honesty—it hurts. willing to believe if credentials align
if receiving is high.
if I
meet you, as digging into vastness, how do we narrow our ambition? like a mind
examining its rules or heaven letting loose or not dying on cue.
at
some point we know our potential. as individualized souls. while another might
respell a rumor.
ears
are eager. if to hear, not just lies, but good people giving good flattery. so,
what makes us happy?
maybe
a decent soul, a remarkable soul, a do for die only for me soul—or an open to
flaws soul.
is
society isolated, are we crowded alone, what defines humanity? loaded questions
or circular reasoning, we first learn we know so little. where is happiness? is
it next to anguish? can we manage happiness?
in
such a sense where we protect happiness, if designed to be happy.
I indicted
happiness. I think she was mis-defined. I think happiness is a clear
conscience. most would agree, if and only if, happiness was more permanent. (I ‘m
good, but not that extreme.)
I don’t
need concrete happiness, just her location, where I return to know her feeling.
so,
what is happiness?
some
intrinsic or inherent or mental component; some arc made reachable if dwelling
inwardly; a compass a gift a gulf.
happiness
is sensitive, easily agitated and susceptible to uneasiness. a person was
happy. some game they played. happiness became sad. over transparency or
raffled or temporarily—most were happy.
we accept
most things are impermanent. our promise is evaporation. so, what is happiness?
