Happiness, to the girl dancing round and round,

alone in her bedroom, is the roaring lion inside her chest.

Fierce and triumphant, his cries burst forth

with every smile found upon her delighted lips.

As she celebrates, she believes that (finally) she has found

true happiness.

Happiness, to the soldier returning from Afghanistan,

is the fireworks exploding in his heart when he sees his wife

and for the first time, his baby son, waiting at the gate.

He is brought to his knees in tears, thanking God for his safe return.

While he cradles his son and kisses his wife, he too thinks he is experiencing

true happiness.

Happiness, to the old man at the window,

is the glowing fire in his heart as the snow drifts down.

He knows he is perhaps watching for the last time.

His back pains him, and his feet beg him to sit, but he stays,

watching the children’s faces as they play, and decides that this is

true happiness.

Happiness, to the little boy on Christmas morning,

is not the new computer game, nor the dinosaur set.

It is when his big sister bursts through the door and says,

“Am I too late for Christmas?”

She came home just for him, and in her arms, he knows this is

true happiness.

Happiness, to me, is something we can’t quite touch,

always out of reach, and we seek it far too much.

But in this world of darkness found at every turn,

it’s important for us all to take the time to learn,

that happiness can take so many different forms,

but is, above all else, the fire that keeps us warm.