Joy has no opposite—

She is the purity of presence,

A knowing,

The thrill of aliveness.

She is not chased or captured,

But turns up unannounced,

Like a long-loved-and-lost friend,

Except, on closer inspection,

With a flooding warmth, you realise

That friend is you.

She is that stilled gaze

Holding you at arm’s length:

Admiration,

A sweet outbreath,

An unwinding,

Wind-thrown leaves coming to rest.

She is not fickle like happiness

Who hides in the curl of a smile

Or in the fleeting flash of teeth.

She is there,

Behind life’s many filters and veils,

Underneath ripples of mental noise,

Aglow,

Joy is always there.