What more I want
I don’t pursue happiness. Nor do I run after enlightenment. I have tiny times when I am content. That is when joy, like a dancing butterfly, enters and sits lightly on my soul.
I have this bliss when I bend to admire a Parijat*, and the dew on it flies to kiss my eyelashes. I smell it in the wonderful words of an old musty book. It touches me when a child tiptoes from behind and closes my eyes with little palms. It comes to me when the rains falling on the swaying trees wet my feelings. I felt it this morning when the season’s first fog filled my senses.
These sensuous moments make my life and are mine for a lifetime.
What more I want?
*Parijat: A tiny white fragile flower with orange stem
Image: Fog: Austin Schmid; Books: Peter Kratochvil
