often he’d see them red with anger and at other times
blue in misery, seemingly hopeless and depressed.
quick-wittedly, he thought of farming and preserving
fun, laughter, optimism, and cheerfulness
while these are in season, that humans
may not run out of bliss to
keep their well-being.
everyday he’d fondly go to where feasts are
where there is so much rejoicing,
untiringly, he collects the essence of joy,
peacefulness, love and kindness
plants them all in his farm
and on harvest time
he’d jar the fruits
for gift-giving –
a jar of hope to comfort
every pain, illness and loss.
off he goes
to hand straws of dried leaves of mercy for penitent souls,
a can of preserved faith for the desperate ones,
a smoked essence of love for the deprived,
seasoned patience for the oppressed
all sealed and contained
in special flasks or vials
cooled in his fridge or
stored in a shelf.