Real happiness, said my Lord,
lies in making others happy;
dismissing then the class,
spilling out onto the playground.
Only I remaining, behind the windows,
poring over tomorrow's lessons
while today's become
thread the needle and a-tisket, a-tasket.
Happiness, chalked in huge letters
across the dusty board. If true, if true,
if it lies there,
we cannot make others happy ...
nor ourselves. Not really. Not really.
In our pockets like a rabbit's foot, gathered
small change, cats-eyes, bright pebbles.
Rather than lead us into such an ignoble prank,
safely He turns us away until our truth
and primary function we discern
and perform agreeably, without purpose
or regard, for ourselves and for all the others.
O child of God, to make yourself and others happy
become who you always were and already are.