She had over-slept. There was no time to make her usual
breakfast — she would be late for work and that would
be the first time in forty years.
She opted to pick up something at a coffee shop on the way
to her bus stop.
The line there was long and slow and if she waited to
be served she would miss her bus. She decided to leave,
but as she was about to go, the cashier signaled her
to the front of the queue and took her order.
”You are so kind. How much do I owe?”
The young girl smiled affectionately as she gave her
the cash register slip.
When she was seated on her bus she looked at the
receipt on which was printed:
and scribbled on the bottom was:
”I never forget a favour.”
What is happiness?
You seek the definition of something
that is beyond all boundaries.
An emotion, as complex and
as variant, in essence and content
as nature itself.
Is it possible,
to find the chemistry of this solution?
Or perhaps to weave some mantle of permanence
from this ephemeral thing?
Or could we grasp
our fleeting joys or pleasures
and clasp them to our breast
so as to drain their nectar content dry
and by doing so
sweeten all the sea of our life’s bitter existence?
It will remain as it is —
a temporary, transient thing,
an unreal reality, that links
the chain of endurance for the living.
An eternity of happiness is the heritage of the dead.