these necessary joys

What is it about happiness that makes you
say At last as if it was something the world
owed you? Today, I woke up and said Someone
is responsible for the sun, for my weak eyes,
for yesterday's bread on the table. Listen,
I'd like to ask if you would know what would
happen to my brother who is sleeping this morning
on someone else's couch. Why doesn't he find it strange,
how comfortable he is in this new world? I can only
come to the conclusion that he is rare, unlike that
person on a tightrope that a poet once talked about. You see,
I believe that the rest of us are defined by what we
fear most. My brother is not, he is spelled out
by the wild look in his eyes every time he witnesses
something new. It's either that or I never really
knew him very well. The riddle his body forms is on
the couch I am looking at and I am wondering now
who is responsible for him, for all these
necessary joys?