Who is the Cuckoo? Who is the Nest?

Is it so proposterous to assert happiness? Let's face it, i haven't been the happiest little gnome in garden lately. Maybe a couple of months in total in the last three years. Depressing. And not the point. I feel good. Internally. Needless to point out how corny it sounds. With hope comes dread. Hopefully, it'll last a long time. Dreadfully, not long enough. Now one arrives at the point where one should fold some metaphors into the speech so as to make it seem at least half-fictional.. Is my history as important to everyone else as it is to me? I believe i could actually answer that one. This particular moment of spastic verborrhea is agonisingly unsatisfactory. I can't help myself. Rambling contains the best kept secrets.