As it seems, useless to put up a fight for a joy of a heart. That to hathes it a joy of joy. Why, and what is joy. Further beyond, I see lightless goners of matches lit with fire torn. That to lit matches untorn, a present it seems bright to my eyes that see. A bright day out of doom and gloom, and a day. What today is, nonetheless, a day is interim of time betwixt. That leads to days interims betwixt. Hence, it’s a day. Then to reminisce, why would I want to spend a day miserable or glad. That’s a question hard to define and answer. Brightness the day, the gloominess arrays. And the reverse a joy or sad, and a day. Huh, I’m glad I’ve written thus tis. And tis to norms outlays out of heads there are, means much in the head to turn, churn a name a day and a name. A game, a zane and what it is. Only if I knew what it is. It feels absurd and longer yet a path set to walk like a walkathon. I’m in a hunt for brightness upon a heart. Is that possible or is it humane. A joy, a sad, huh, and a day, and a glad, and an upset face to upon the days. Maybe years. Maybe frightening, till I die. What is joy ?