Self contentment brings happiness,
But does the happiness need self?
For if I loved books, I'd be a librarian;
If I loved food, I'd be a cook;
If I loved money, I'd be a banker;
But does this contentment have an end?
I am content,
When my house is my home,
When there is conversation in silence,
When my thoughts aren't solitary,
Even when I'm asleep.
But one mustn't stop with complacency;
For I'd rather be incomplete,
Than stay in the dark,
And assume I'm complete.
But does the happiness need self?
For if I loved books, I'd be a librarian;
If I loved food, I'd be a cook;
If I loved money, I'd be a banker;
But does this contentment have an end?
I am content,
When my house is my home,
When there is conversation in silence,
When my thoughts aren't solitary,
Even when I'm asleep.
But one mustn't stop with complacency;
For I'd rather be incomplete,
Than stay in the dark,
And assume I'm complete.
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