The Right to Happiness

"He that gathered a Hundred Bushels of Acorns or Apples, 
had thereby a Property in them; they were his Goods 
as soon as gathered. He was only to look that he 
used them before they spoiled; else he took more 
than his share, and robb'd others." 
         ~ John Locke, Second Treatise, Chapter V, 46


Everyone claims the right 
         to happiness; the proverbial 
plot of land to develop, on which
         to build a mansion or luxury 
condo. Panoramic water views, marble 
         tile, juliette balconies, concierge;
small but tasteful servants' quarters.
         Everyone claims the right to go
after pleasure, by which is meant generally 
         things of short duration, acquired
mostly through the use of Money, some lasting 
         thing that Men might keep without 
spoiling. The fly wants its morsel of decay; 
         the spider, cunning exercise of its 
silk. After desire is fed, does happiness
         ensue? Does contentment follow? 
In the dark, it's hard to tell what birds sing
         brightest at dawn's approach. The poor 
also have the right to happiness. But
         is the weight of their hunger 
equal to the weight of what, for others, 
         is merely desire? A whale's heart
is the size of a compact car; its mouth
         could easily hold a hundred humans,
though it prefers to feed on troughs of herring  
         and krill. You might say the earth,
too, desires happiness: the happiness of 
         seasons alternating without conflict, 
the happiness of water flooding only to fill. Two 
         by two, the earth's threatened creatures 
filed into a transport vessel. After forty days and
         nights of rain, a dove returned with an olive
leaf in its beak. You too would be happy to set foot
         again on land, to see an end to rain or
fire, or war and the endless lamenting of the dead.