On Being Content

I've been mulling over today's topic in my head for a little over a week now.   

Content: satisfied with what one is or has; not wanting more or anything else.  This definition was after a long list of definitions on the other version: something that is to be contained.   

For most of my life, I was looking forward.  To the next part of life.   When I'm in high school.  When I'm in college.  On and on and on.  Always looking forward, convinced THAT's when I would be happy.  Because I was convinced I didn't have that magical ingredient I needed to be happy.  

And I was.   But looking forward was not its location.   It was inside.  Inside of me.  I had to let go of "when" and focus on "now."

Now that I do that (as often as possible - because no one is perfect), I am content with the contents of my life, and so... a poem on that.  

Content

determines 

the level of Content

for so many,

including me. 

Until.

Until 

we decide 

our contents 

are all that we want. 

Content.  

The Girl 

who idolizes her 

Mother

and loves her often. 

Content.  

The Boy

who enjoys his 

Mother

and loves her obviously.  

Content. 

The Husband

who supports his 

Wife

and loves her unconditionally. 

Content.  

The Mother

who shames her

Daughter 

but loves her unknowingly.  

Content. 

The Friends 

who ignore their 

Friend 

yet claimingly love her. 

Content. 

The Goals

that escape their

Owner

yet change her daily.  

Content. 

The Moments 

that envelope their 

Owner 

yet inspire her wholeheartedly.  

Content.  

Content

determines 

the level of Content

for so many,

including me. 

Until.

Until 

we decide 

our contents 

are all that we want. 

Content.