Bruce Dawe - Happiness is the art of being broken lyrics

Happiness is the art of being broken With least sound. The old, whom circumstance Has ground smooth as green bottle-gla** On the sea's furious grindstone, very often Practise it to perfection. (For them, d**h Is the one definitive shrug In an infinite series, all prior gestures Take relevance from this, as much express Sorrow for stiff canary or cold son.) Always the first fragmentation Stirs us to fear…Beyond that point We learn where we belong, in what uncaring Complex depths we roll, lashed by light, Tumbling in anemone-dazzled fathoms Seek innocence in surrender, Senility an ironic art of charity Easing the agony of disparateness until That day when, all identity lost, we serve As curios for children roaming beaches, Makeshift monocles through which they view The same green transitory world we also knew.