How can you count your blessings
When there are too many to count
Bring back the days of few
When few was fair amount

How can you smell the roses
When the nose’s full of smells
With a swollen belly and a heart that hurts
We torment ourselves with a choice of dessert

How can less be more
When you’ve never had less
Where the curve of diminishing returns steers
Fear unknown is the fear most feared

How can you count your blessings
When there are too many to count
Count them back - don’t count them alone
Count them slow - don’t count for more

The romantics had it right
They had a better word for it too
Melancholy ...
Beautiful and sensitive
They looked down on the brutes who stomp through life unaffected,
They enriched the world with their artful suffering
Mr Byron, Mr Wagner
Thank you
I shell treasure and enjoy my depression

Enjoying life quietly
Enduring life calmly
Not hoarding treasures
Not holding grudges
yang and yin
win win

Let the world be imperfect
Let yourself be imperfect
It's not what you thought it was
All but a thought it was
not for yourself - for them
your life is a gem

A dance that never stops
Seething life all around you
A part and the whole
The end and the go on

Stillness and immobility
They look just the same
But one can be bliss the other is pain

The stillness arises when the tension is gone
When the tension grows immobility is born

The blessing of stillness it flies high and wide
The curse of tension pulls the mind closely tied

Stillness and immobility
They look just the same
But one can be bliss the other is pain

In the eye of a storm mighty worrier she waits
Her opponent exhausted from the forces he breaks

From the centre she moves in any direction
Her hands tied only by one thing - affection

Stillness and immobility
They look just the same
But one can be bliss the other is pain

What colour am I?

My eyes are blue
My nose is red
My belly is white

Mostly still green
I hope

My psychotherapist tells me
There is no black or white
No good or bad
No pleasure or pain
It's just a trick that my mind likes to play on me whenever I open my eyes

My psychotherapist tells me
Life is just shades of gray

I take another look
Hmmmmm
From a distance life does appear to be a dull sort of brown
But as I get closer colours start to appear
Bright colours, swirling, mixing, seething

Ever so exciting
Ever so exhausting

I get even closer and the colours begin to vanish
They blink out of existence
They blink back in again
There is just presence and absence
Cold void and a hot fullness

To be or not to be
To live or not to live