over death we ponder too much
or none at all
but not upon the landmark most difficult to touch

living life well.

am i living my life well?

no, money can't help achieve
nor a good career of success

you know it too well not to believe
they do any better than robbing happiness.

then is it a nice wife and a loving family
kids to hug, comfort you generously?

no, not really, they still aren't enough to ensure
fullness of life as may only briefly endure.

then what is it that makes life lived well

a good sleep to tide the night
a roof over to dwell?

doing just what you like or minding the other's wish
let your desires run wild or hold them under leash?

to me it's a mystery getting answer to which I fail
the parameters of a life, having lived thoroughly well.

but over time I've realized, deep in, its echoes ring,

living life well has a lot to do
with being contented with smallest thing.

flock to the jhil in December
the birds from the snow

merry goers catch them on lens.

some travel that far distance

like peafowls and hens

tasty with salad cucumber

end up on plates

adorned with spice.

some have a fate that's more nice

brought to the market
sold at high price

so they live grow up in age
with the sky ever beyond cage.

a few of us not knowing why

fall in love with jhil bird's eye.

When dark clouds diminished the day
and rain carved moon craters on the river
we were drenched beneath a tree.

Her hand upon mine was more than words could say
but made me once more a hardened believer
in love's miracle of bridging hearts quietly.

Cognitive dissonance is the Jazz of Philosophy.