Simple to Be Happy, Difficult to Be Simple
Happiness is a small flame,
yet we search the sun in distant skies,
burning our hands on shadows
we mistake for light.
A cup of tea,
a moment without hurry,
a smile that asks for nothing back—
these are kingdoms we overlook.
We build towers of wanting,
then complain of distance from peace,
not knowing peace was sitting
beside the first step.
To be happy is simple—
like breathing, like rain, like dawn,
but to be simple
we must unlearn the weight of everything we carry.
And so we walk,
between noise and silence,
slowly discovering
that less was never empty—
it was always enough.
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