No one yet has ever chosen misery
Those that seem to have done so
Haven’t any more than they have
Chosen this mist or is it rain
We would first have to own ourselves
Then give up on them entirely
Every day rather than once
And for all (which would be to seem
To have done so and not at all)
Like mist we speak of misery
In dissolves that don’t, disappearances
That can’t exactly be detected
That are not for detection in any
Senses we reliably seem to have
Is it your fault you don’t yet
Use your time, all of it, to defend
The weather against those wishing
To control it, if only by letting it
Be amplified in its present effects?
No one wants the wave to come
Though some don’t mind if it does
The question still what divides
The misery before it from that right
After, other than the wave itself. No
One listens to misery as if
Having chosen others over
Owning a private sunlight
Rays that touch people mid-conversion
Keep it from coming at all
Happiness too hasn’t yet occurred
I mean are you kidding
Really nothing has but also
Nothing to some degree has not
Impossible to detect where one
Shades into the other so that
If I’m happy the sun wins
Through all that overcast have I
Then forgotten the misery of others
Allowed its wave to break
On what the mornings expected
Had them happen to me without
Choice while also full of acts
Sunlight comes all the time
Whether it can be detected
Regardless of what it alights on
It is a verb without intention
In a world unhappy with objects
You can’t have it or choose not to
Still time to convert though
Not really from, not quite to
A misery intransitive as when
Sunlight takes a building
