Happiness is golden drop that feeds among the spring.
Yet joy is wrought through tears , that on the brow do sting.
On Emerald wings it flies , never bought by earths ties or things.
Yes. Joy is one who soars deep inside the souls doors.

Happiness is a swan’s song, echoing in the pale light of dawn.
Yet, joy hums like a bee, quiet so none can see.
It asks no fee, no renewal if need naught be.
Yes it sings, but more it glows, bestowing peace to the one that knows.

It wears the armor of the soul’s scale and lives to see the end of it’s tale.
No knight it be, no fight it gives, yet simply lives, yet simply is.

Joy the thread, that weds the music that beats in rhythm with the soul