Guilty As Charged

Might it perhaps be so, for all we
know, that to achieve happiness
it helps to be modest in one's
yearning to reach an accomplished
goal? Could bitterness and envy
betray a lack of creative imagination?
I recall, when young, hoping for
a committed tandem of shared love,
an emotional covenant between
me and mine that would be
unbreakable, invulnerable and
timeless. Time and life have been
kindly indulgent and though I
might once have been restlessly
impatient, I have since known
contentment and happiness
throughout each day of my life.
I trusted to chance and fate and
both responded. This sublime state
of emotional fulfillment I share
while others covet it resenting what
I have and they, with their more
demanding aspirations in the
devilish details, have been deprived.
While I am surfeit, they starve, and
guilt mars my content, a constant
spectre of furtive, ghostly backward
glances to stifle my joy in the presence 
of those who tragically have not.