There is no formula for bliss...

And here, because you know what I am telling you, bliss is
the state of someone else who loves your taste,
the scent of someone else, remaining with you
like a skin of phosphorescence,
lighting the daywarmed, moonless asphalt road followed into sleep.

All of this sounds so easy.

Explain bliss as music, to someone who can't hear it.
Explain it as sex, to someone who can't feel it.
Explain it as spectacle, to someone who can't see it.
Explain it as the aroma of mother's milk, to someone who can't smell it.
Explain it as the salt sweetness of a lover's skin, to someone who can't taste it...

from "Epistle: Bliss" in Epistles: Prose Poems by Mark Jarmon ©2001