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My Happiness MAG
d like you to color my eyes blue.
Do things look different when they're seen through the sky?
Maybe hills turn into oceans while rain-rimmed clouds
turn their backs; chaos prospers blissfully with lack of a watchful eye.
I'd like to hike the ocean while rain spills onto giggling hilltops.
Can I run my fingertips along the freedom of sound?
My ears cannot give my mouth the words to convey its nature;
subtlety of whispers, silence, omnipotent thunder
all claim the single voice of sound.
Thunder me blue through the clear black sky
I want to wonder at the absence of my echo.
Clean, pure, whistle-sharp world,
I'd like to be tangled in your ropes of sunshine;
they hang down like tree-swing vines, beckoning stored-away adventure.
To swallow your air, to climb the stars with my eyes
to feel your words in my throat, to know that I can love;
this is what I've discovered my happiness to be.