The Hidden Journal

Joy never stays in one place.
It drifts,
like light through leaves,
like music in another room.

───

I used to chase it,
afraid that if I didn’t hold on tight,
it would disappear for good.
But joy was never meant to be caged.
It’s meant to move through.

───

It visits in laughter,
lingers in quiet,
hums through memory.
Sometimes it’s bold —
sometimes it’s barely there.
But even when it fades,
it leaves the air softer.

───

The way joy moves
has nothing to do with control
and everything to do with trust.
Trust that it knows the way back,
that it doesn’t need proof to return.

───

Now, I don’t chase it.
I make room for it —
open windows,
clear corners,
live slowly enough to feel it pass.

───

Joy moves how it must.
And when it does,
so do I.

───

— Desiree