I have something, I want to tell you. Come here, listen. This might compel you. The secret of a happy life is devoid of all that. It's a moment, not a goal. Arrives and then will pass. It's likely that there are few beings, content within themselves. Time continues at it's pace, a secret no one tells. If you're not happy, change it. Or try to rearrange it. Or maybe just exchange it? Our systems do not choose. We do. Here's a clue: constructs move you. They don't define you. It's possible they hide you. Who knew? (We do)
