Happiness

They told you to find yourself A plot of land,

a Physical space to grow your roots,

and beloved ones moisten the earth with their tears.

But we are spirits-

He could not ground his wings, no more than you can chip the sheen off your money clip-

We flutter and float upon our own ideals of happiness only yours is louder with its subwoofers

Drowning out the God within-

So he asked not to be buried, but to be set free

Throw away the chalice into the sea.
Drown away with me.