Divine Happiness.

As an ever-repeated whisper,

you are more myth than monolith,

mysterious as midnight Mojave-mist,

though rumours are the only remaining proof that you even exist.

Like legends from less-desperate times,

you have always been larger than life;

whenever old wives retell the tale,

they all agree that you are the reason 

for every rhyme.

No fairy tale is complete without you,

the absence of 'ever-after' is a crime.

You are praised in song by swallows,

and bleed through every glass of wine.

Held on to by the hungry, 

you are at home in hope-filled hearts.

I pray, now, as my own flame flickers,

for your presence through the dark;

You—the currency of counted blessings.

You—the love that lights the endless sky.

Lead me to salvation, and away from anger.

Lift me up! So my spirit can finally let go, and learn to fly.