Your joy is like that of a lazy dog resting at his masters feet.
Your ability to seize each moment baffles those who notice.
Ahhhhh, contentment, never wanting more.
Even the birds of the air seek more for their nests,
Yet you have somehow decided you have enough.
In fact should you get more, you'd most likely reject it.
I hear you smugly say, "No thank you sir, none for me." Perhaps in a British accent.
I imagine your home in a far away land,
Where Jenny Craig cannot tell you you need a better body,
Target cannot send their luring mailers with the latest and greatest,
And where Budweiser can't throw parties with fancy boats and sexy party guests.
My world tells me you are esoteric, unattainable, or even nonexistent.
But I see you, I've even met you.
I'll catch you again, one of these days.
When that day comes I will be King of the Mountain!
I will push down, knock down, and step on the fingers of all those who attempt to defeat me.
All those TV ads will try to infiltrate my troops, they will fail.
Magazines will attempt to find a weak spot in my fortress and they shall be met with great force.
Billboards' laser beams will be intercepted by my force field.
No lie of needing more shall penetrate my armor of contentment.
Conceivably, that day is today!
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