I’ve been told that sadness brings truth
A better understanding of what there is to feel
In order to strip away the comfort our padding brings
That so shields us from what there is
Gives us the idea that all is soft
We must take the pain of peeling away our person
Pulling at our second skin and lamenting as it goes
I’m told that melancholy helps us to know mirth
Helps us to appreciate a smile
Or other such defiance to the darkness
But I can’t be sure
How could we be justified?
How could happiness be our goal
If we go through something so terrible,
So disempowering
A **** of the senses
A death of the self
To reach it?
Were we always to be happy?
Is the answer an extreme?
Why must we peak?
Why may we not plateau,
Reaching a bold, floating indifference to the truth
And the real world?
I would be happy to ride a level river
Never knowing waterfalls
Or water flowing uphill
That is supposedly happiness
The truth can hang
The world can stay away
I don’t want to know you
Not through that anyway.