The fear of knowing it will end, the risk of uncertainty
Joy is uncontrollable happiness.
Joy cannot be bought or possessed
Any fool can experience happiness but joy is reserved for the hungry of spirit, for the lusty livers, for the empty and abject.
Joy feels creepy to the mongers of phenomena, who measure happiness dutifully in earned increments, and anything unearned is suspect
Joy is no fair. Even the retard can feel it. The dumb, the poor, it is available in every moment to most people. Being so common it must not be desirable. If any fool can have it, then why should I want it?
The poor envy the rich for what they can buy
The rich do not envy the poor
The poor enjoy the languor of real, present, unconditional joy, although having it, they do not know the pain of its absence.
Joy ends so it is scary, when it starts you know that not-joy is right around the corner