It is a word I rarely use these days. Seems I misplaced contentment upon entering the birth of another year. Funny how strongly I held it, how well I remember the feel and the taste. For something that so quickly slipped my grasp I do not recall when it was lost. I’d chase it if I thought that was wise; drink it in greedily the way one thirsts on a hot summer’s day. It is there, lurking, felt down below where the Soul grows. A fissure waiting to explode, I’m content within the knowing the peace is stirred from underneath.