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