Am I happy? Well, true, I am a rock
An island, like Paul Simon says, content
But not truly happy. Still, it’s a cock
And bull story, this happiness. It went
As soon as it came, like the wind, a spent
Force, leaving a quiet calm, once sadness
Or rather, disappointment, had vented
Its spleen. The sheen of still, dappled waters
Are pleasing to float on, relaxed, unstressed
The anxious mind turned off, the ticking clock
Turned down, power restored to my consent
As to what happens and what doesn’t; blessed
Autonomy, only me to take stock
And improve life’s ingredients and blend
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