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It begins as a whisper in the chest,
a quiet warmth beneath the ribs.
No thunder yet, no blazing light,
just a small sun learning to rise.
Through the corridors of breath
it wanders softly, patiently,
until the heart remembers
how wide the world can be.
Then suddenly
the walls of silence fall away.
Laughter breaks like morning rain,
spilling gold across the day.
What once was hidden in the dark
now floods the open sky;
a thousand silent seeds of light
burst gently from inside.
Joy is not a quiet thing.
It erupts like stars being born.
It breaks the gravity of sorrow
and tears the night from dawn.
In a single breath of wonder
the universe begins to sing
and every pulse within the soul
becomes an opening.
The body cannot hold it long,
this rising tide of living fire.
It climbs the spine like morning wind
and lifts the spirit higher.
Eyes grow wide with sudden light,
the ordinary turns divine;
a moment stretches into eternity
in the miracle of time.
Perhaps joy is the soul remembering
that it was once made of sky,
and every heartbeat is a door
through which the infinite arrives.
Joy is the courage of existence,
the blooming after long despair.
It spills from every hidden chamber
and turns the silence into air.
And in that radiant eruption
where the self dissolves in spring
the world is born again within
the trembling heart of everything