insufficient content

i feel as though my life is on pause. at this moment i want to go home. home to a home. home to a family. home to beloved nature displayed in its greatest splendor. and home to an unknown future. yes, even that i would accept.
what is contentment? maybe it will never fully be ours. i can't imagine being fully satisfied; can't imagine not wanting more. maybe that's the point.
i find myself in this state filled with joy over the simplest things. colours - like those brilliant reds in the fall. the sky at dusk - a dark but vivid blue. the brilliant pink hundred-petalled flowers generously clustered on rich greenery. the delicate cherry blossoms blooming on dark gnarly branches. and other things like potted plants. designs made from foam and espresso in a warm mug of latte. the chirping of birds on a morning walk and seeing the sun at 9, 10 and 11 free of concrete cover. these things bring me joy. i wish i could dwell with them; be encompassed by colour, songs, warmth and beauty; find comfort in being as they do. (be free from concrete, suits, schedules and money-making.) but i cannot wrap myself in colour as much as i can kill desire. i am an ever longing, ever desiring soul. wanting summer and fall to exist at once, and mourning the death of each brilliant red.

"I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil - this is God's gift to humans." -Ecclesiastes 3:12

if only it were that easy.