2025-07-27-1
The foolish seeks happiness in the distance,
Chasing mirages with tireless persistence—
Eyes fixed on horizons forever ahead,
Dreaming of gardens where no seeds are spread.
He wanders through seasons, searching the skies,
Missing the bloom that before him lies.
But the wise, with quiet and patient hands,
Tends to the soil where his own heart stands.
He waters the roots and welcomes the rain,
Finding sweet joy in the simple and plain.
He knows that contentment, like blossoms, will grow
Where care and attention are given below.
For happiness isn’t a faraway star,
Or a treasure discovered in places afar—
It lives in the moments we nurture and meet,
For the wise grows it gently under his feet.
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