The art of being happy

Amidst the perplexities of my gloom
I could see those faces bloom
I felt a sweet pang of envy
A bemused smile flickered across my lips
I just gazed and pondered
I thought I heard them laugh in tune
It was a loud roar
Ah! I thought they are laughing at the state of mine
Over the melancholy and pain of mine
Oh! They could see through me, read my mind
I felt naked!!
Like a wounded warrior amongst the hawks
I felt my heart bleed
I cursed them aloud
Then heard a voice say,
“Why dear, it may be their own share of joy”
What about mine?? I wanted to ask
But felt too choked to speak
Can’t I feel the same bliss of joy??
Even for a jiffy pleaded I
Then heard the same voice again speak out
It was my heart, I could make out
It said, “No u cannot”
“For u lack the will, the required skill”
I wondered, what that meant
What skill, what art??
Why then, it’s so easy for others
I heard it again
“Its never spontaneous, it’s never easy”
“It never was, it never is”
“It’s a deliberate effort, an art”
“An art that needs to be practiced and perfected”
“It’s an art of all arts”
“It’s the art of being happy….”