What Are Days For?

I came across this poem by Philip Larkin this morning:

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

So, he says, it is simple: why are we here? To be, and to be happy. Instead of accepting that, we tend to complicate it, and then we need to fix it, and explain it. But it all comes back to the simple (not easy) truth: Be. Be happy. Be happy today. This day is where we live. There is nowhere else. If, at times it seems that there is, call the priest, call the doctor, call the pizza place, and then sit back and remember: I. Am. Here. Now.