Defrag

There may be joys unfound beneath the skin,
Lurking in the corners of the soul,
Unwilling to come out, safe in their hole,
Forever burrowing on, deeper in
Than introspection ever could begin
To seek them out, though that should be its goal
Forever, or confession could enroll
Though it should work upon them as on sin.
Yet though potential bliss should hide away
Within, forever daring to defy
The searching mind until it comes to die,
I do not think we'd need it anyway:
There is sufficient joy in that we know
To let the search for other pleasures go.