#21 ode to joy

I am wonderfully and perfectly made to carry joy

the kind of joy that old women, tired of drudgery, cry for

and old men have forgotten exists

the kind of joy that only children seem to possess

yet I too contain the flickering flame of joy

that dances anew and threatens to drown out the staunchest objection

laid down to ensnare hope by the most furtive joy-sucker

I give thanks for this joy that is embedded in my DNA

so that everything I touch sparkles a little more

and I leave little breadcrumbs of joy to power-charge those who suffer

from perpetual doldrums

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