Holding On To Happiness, Fleeting by Matthew Peluso

I once made the fatal mistake of saying out loud that we were living in Camelot,

and immediately wished I could delete my words through some not-yet-developed

virtual software that allows a speaker to issue a verbal undo command and

erase my dangerous expression of personal contentment and happiness.  

I knew I had roused the attention of the gods and unwittingly placed us on their cosmic radar.

Not the God, who has better things to do than care about anything I said,

but those other gods, the lesser ones, banished to infinite irrelevancy worlds ago by Him,

who exist only to vengefully destroy anyone who innocently (albeit stupidly) says

that which should never be spoken:

That we were happy and fortunate, young, and in love,

with nothing but the best of life awaiting us in our hopeful future.

“Is that right?” sarcastically and rhetorically asked the lesser gods.  

“Let’s see,” they laughingly answered themselves.

From that moment we tried (unsuccessfully) for years to hold on fleetingly

to our happiness and everything else we had and valued, only to see it slip away.   

First in drips, then in a flood, of increasing loss and hurt

until there was nothing left but the distant memory of our once shining moment.

“Just like Camelot,” the lesser gods mocked.

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