We feel happiness
In moments vivid and fleeting
Nothing more than
A birdsong chorus
Or the flutter of butterflies
In the breeze

I flip through
The written chapters
Of my life
And as I make my way
Through still blank pages
I catch a glimpse
Of the end

As words spill freely
From behind loose lips
Rivers of thought begin to form
And while they ebb and flow
Around the heads of those  
Pouring them into the world,
One must wonder if they will manage
To trickle into ears to fill empty minds
Before spilling into seas of apathy