Laughter is like a quake
That sways the soul.
 
It’s volcanic activity which cascades
Not lava,
but soundwaves.
To cross the waterworld of the flyless,
I’ve seen it construct bridges
of magma
so they function as stitches. 
 
Thus, shy people have an anchor.
wounded ones recall to hanker,
and the resigned remember to thirst.
 
Is the sound of color streamers unfurled,
Of a bubble, the minimum burst.
 
Waves of oneself over the shores of the world.
 
Elixir’s essence in odd doses,
Laughter’s a spell unconciously weaved.

I held it the closest,
Yet it fades the fastest.
Sound is the first thing to vanish-
Maybe beautiful things can only remain so
If they perish, if they’re banished.
 
As unfathomable as eyes 
and equally hard to define,
its thousand-petal facets learn to hide,
as tarot cards sleeping in a half-moon over the table.
 
Its truest form is only brought with trust or time.
 
Laughter’s the unique spark of each and every one.
Dark or innocent things may lighten it up.
Indeed an art to  ignite, and a vocation to keep it up.
 
That’s why I toast for laughter-
For never being able to define it,
For its candlelight character
that never fades, never falters,
even through abyssal depths,
beneath the heaviest of rains.
 
Laughter’s like… of all things, the farthest.