I would not call this Happiness.
I would not call this Joy.
I can call this Realisation
Which Time cannot destroy.
This State of resting in Quiet –
With no battles in Thought;
This State of Being, quaint and calm,
Which Time itself has wrought.
Quiet moments filled with Wisdom,
Mingled with Memory,
Create this quaint smile, calm the heart,
Freeing the essence of Me.
Sometimes Doubts laugh – as is their wont –
But Experience sings
In my ear, unmasking these Doubts
As vain, trivial things.
All that is meant as Destiny
Shall be what finally stays;
Then matter not cold, moonless nights,
Nor vacant sunless days.