I happened to chance upon this poem,  one I had penned several years ago and thought I’d put it down here,  before I lost it. 

Bitter Happiness


The Lord blessed man
With the never drying horn;
Filled to the brim,
With the potion of Happiness,
'twas to keep man eternally happy.

When Adam bit the Apple,
The potion turnd bitter, vitriolic..
But the horn retained its gifts;
The gift of regeneration
And the now bitter ale. its magic.

Since then, man has only drunk
Shallowly, from the precious horn.
Shallowly, if at all, on account
Of the ale's poor taste.

All men? Nay. All but the Wise Sot;
For he still drank deep
And got drunk on Happiness,
Drunk on Trancendental Bliss.

-PC