Bliss

might bliss be a time, or a space, or a people,

moments of cherish, a view with no equal,

might love be a bliss, long and lasting,

where the eyes of another, pull on heartstrings

what form might bliss take, where needed most

is bliss in moments that capture hope

birth, creation, victory, success.

Bliss defined by man at best.

Bliss the moment where fair eyes meet,

And hearts once single, now connected beat.

Bliss the final step of long standing struggle,

Inner turmoil, set to rubble

Bliss not be poetic in all its forms,

Bliss be pure of heart, thus has no norms

Bliss rides on the waves of sailing souls,

The grace of wind to make shallow hole,

bliss is not found, but ventured upon,

no step is wasted, no step is wrong.

Bliss will find its way, and present it’s true treasure.

So venture, sail, get lost in wicked weather,

Man is not promised to find bliss on his map,

But if you stumble across, stay. Cherish the moment, whilst lasts.

Comments:

I actually had a few attempts at writing this poem. I knew I wanted to find a way to talk about the idea of bliss, this strange state of happiness. As ever, I think my cynical eye can be seen in some of the verses, but I feel quite happy with how this turned out.