Does my poetry still hum with happiness flared?
A resonating joy that captures the heart.
Rapid revolutions and clarity paired
Within a perfectly disconcerting start.
But I rarely ponder the good and the well.
Instead, transmutations of the pain pour forth,
Preferring the brilliant fall than the swell.
Yet, a childlike giddiness provides warmth.
I can muster in the mire for a cause;
I am prone to capitalize on the pain.
But a burst of elation requires pause
To control this hope I can barely contain.
Ache and joy create the same amount of art,
But I'm ready for my share of the joyful part.