Happy are they for whom vocation

is avocation.,

who neither strain nor toil,

rather who play in peace

in the fields of the world,

who take no vacation

for they feel no fatigue,

know no drudgery-

only quest

and the answers to their questions

joyfully discovered,

for whom fireworks of truth and art

light their way in the pitchest dark.

This, the “albeit” Freud meant

in his answer to the seekers query,

“What needs to be – to be content?”

in just those two words.

For how else can love be found

but by that life,

so attractive,

so magnetic,

attracting a kindred spirit

with whom to frolic, to dance,

embrace and kiss

as naturally as breathing,

as naturally as gravity makes

the ripe, juicy peach

fall into the outstretched hands

of the searching lover?