There is a happiness in silence
A joy, A bliss
An unintrusive pleasure
That most people miss
There is a sorrow in happiness
A hollow, A space
A being without a voice
Consumed in life's race
A feather cares not
Whence it is dropped
It flutters its way down
Until it is stopped
The feather and I are not the same
Neither are we far apart
Flutering and wafting
As goes the wind and the heart
What I can and the feather cannot
Is choose where I end my spree
On a tree, in the grass
Or the smile of a little child's glee
