Bright pebbles
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 becomes, outside,
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 my childish pockets a rabbit’s foot, gathered
small change, cats-eyes, bright pebbles.
Rather than lead us into such a transitory endeavor
as happiness for ourselves and others,
safely He turns us toward service until
our duty and primary function we discern
and perform agreeably, without purpose or regard
for ourselves and for all the others.
O child of God, the true task before you
is to become who you always were and already are.
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