The concept of happiness floats like a feather over my head

But it isn’t obeying the laws of gravity

It looms over me, motionless, quiet, and dull

Like the height requirement on a roller coaster to a short kid

Both of us are incapable of grasping what hangs over us

We both wait, the short kid and I

To gain what rests just out of reach

But then what?

The child will wait inline, no longer short

And experience what he has been missing

Only to escape the simplistic joy sixty seconds later

Hair blown askew, eyes wet, running nose

And then the happiness is gone

What he waited for is already spent and done with

He knows that the next time will not be so grand

Because it is no longer new

But now a monotonous flipping and fastness concentrated around metal

And once I grab the feather of happiness, what then?

Will another feather start to drop down and a never ending cycle begin?

Or will this feather be a climax in an anticlimactic life of memories and dreams?

One way or another, I will grasp the feather, because the suspense

Of not knowing if I will be happy forever or

Will there be more feathers

Is half of the fun

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