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Those who are happy are not even conscious of it-
it's a state of inner freedom where they are at home
being themselves and are at one with the moments before them.
Life is in order--there's no disarray, doubt, anxiety or fear-
only a state of grace, calm, harmony, being in tune with self and others, as well as with the universe-- it's the experience of completeness beyond the pale of words--even poets and artists can't describe this dimension which, to me, borders on the sublime , the spiritual, and even, the mysterious.  

Here is the epiphany of love and beauty, of worship, of acceptance of life in all its indescribable wonders and splendours.Yet, happiness isn't blind to nor does it turn away from suffering--
only that, just as it recognises life's sunshine, it, in equal measure,
accepts such suffering from which none is immune--it is prepared to walk through its darkest shadows, in utmost humility, without any sense of loss or bitterness.

That there's pain and sorrow doesn't demean life nor does
it blemish happiness-

indeed, in the acceptance of such, happiness takes on even more meaning as this  ennobles life and bequeaths a spiritual dimension that strengthens rather than weakens the self.

Those we recognise happiness and suffering as not mutually exclusive are truly enlightened.
  14h Eloisa
Traveler
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim
.


Hay
No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

Vanity
All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
I was only loved a little
But I was loved
and that is all I needed
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