Soda Celebrity

The lights are bright, the camera lens is wide,

A sugar-coated soul with nowhere left to hide.

They sip the fizz of fame, a carbonated high,

Beneath the hollow glare of a manufactured sky.

The bubbles rise in frantic, frantic haste,

A bitter sweetness with a hollow taste.

The crowd applauds a ghost behind a screen,

The sharpest image that they’ve ever seen.

But bubbles pop and leave the glass all bare,

Dissolving into cold and empty air.

A fleeting spark, a flash of neon gold,

Before the story is completely told.

They chase the sparkle, frantic for the rush,

Then fade away into the quiet hush.

The pedestal is built of fragile glass,

Watching the fleeting, fickle moments pass.

They trade their truth for headlines on the wall,

And wait to catch the echo of the fall.

The carbonation fades, the glass is dry,

A lonely star against a darker sky.

No substance left beneath the polished sheen,

Just forgotten pixels of a digital scene.

The public turns its gaze to something new,

Leaving the celebrity to find the view.

Alone at last, without the fizz and foam,

Finding the road that leads them back to home.

The lights go out, the silence takes the stage,

Closing the book on one more fleeting page.

A lesson learned within the shallow sea,

The bitter end of Soda Celebrity.

True Happiness

It isn't found in gold or piles of gear,

Or shouting loudly so that all can hear.

It’s in the quiet hum of early light,

When morning shadows banish away night.

It dwells within the warmth of shared bread,

In gentle words that someone kindly said.

A steady heart, a calm and balanced mind,

Leaving the heavy, tangled knots behind.

It is the freedom of a simple breath,

Unafraid of change or fear of death.

It blooms in gardens planted long ago,

Beneath the steady, rhythmic, gentle flow.

It’s holding hands when words are hard to find,

A mirror to a deeply peaceful mind.

Not in the peak, but in the steady climb,

The slow unfolding of our precious time.

It is the laughter bubbling from within,

Where joy and quiet satisfaction spin.

A soft contentment resting in the chest,

A place where weary spirits find their rest.

It needs no witness, seeks no public fame,

It doesn't care to carve its own bright name.

Like rain upon the thirsty, parched ground,

It’s in the silence that it’s truly found.

A gentle flame that keeps the spirit warm,

A steady anchor through the coming storm.

So seek it deep, where shadows softly lie,

Beneath the vastness of the open sky.

True happiness is how we choose to be,

A quiet voyage on an endless sea.