Every time I am happy, this little beastly thought keeps nagging me-that it is almost sinful to be happy.
Is it?
Is that why happy hours, are hours and not days?
Is that why the happy years are those you look back in time for?The times before this nagging voice took over your senses?
Why should emotions be controlled?Why should happiness be serene, and inner?
Why can't all of us be happy at the same time, so we could let others be, and not envy them their happiness?
It seems such a tragedy, that all our lives we look for happiness, when we don't even know to savour it completely.
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The space inside my head, on occasion, is a comfortable retreat. The space outside of it, never is.
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3 comments:
any reason its tempestuos and not tempestuous?
btw.. you probably want to enable the word-verification thingie on the comments -- else you are gonna invite spam in comments
Spell error, and blogspot already had whimsical and tempestuous registered by some like-minded soul-mate.
How did u get here, wordsworth:)?
tempted to quote rajinikanth ..
enge, eppadi, eppo varuvennu yaarukkum theriyathu, aana vara vendiya nerathukku correcta varuven
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