Blessings they speak
In many ways
On any given day.
There is of course
The sun's return
After darkness reigns
There is that first
Breath the infant takes
The last breath
The old man shakes
And takes away the pain.

The each moment
Each ocean wave
Each snowflake
Each lovers look
Each gentle touch
Each sun at noon
Each son and daughter too.
Each child's laugh
Each joyous room
Each innocent mistakes
Which go right anyway.

Each moment of peace
Each moment unique
Each moment of hope
Each moment of you.

The freedom to choose
The freedom to refuse
It's within our attitudes
That's a blessing too.

This life is short
There is no doubt
The birds they sing
And though our lives
They probably don't mean a thing
The many generations
Come and go
Don't I know.

But in this moment so fleeting
It is blessings I am remembering
And in the many shapes
And sounds of suffering
That we can't deny
It is easy to miss
The traveler dressed in white
In the blowing snow
And so it is with the
Blessings
We need to remember
To
Know

She sits in the
claustrophobic room
of her mind
dust ribbons blow
in the pale light
of
waxed candles
burning Jasmine
and
reminds her of the passing of time.

It is not long
before
she finds the hidden bottle
on the dusty cobwebbed shelf
with all of those desires
banging against the opaque glass
begging to be freed again
to run their course
of course she is afraid
as her trembling fingers
circle the cap
too late.

One touch
and
all those desires put aside
are free to roam
and fill the room
with
their moans
and
take control of what once was the freedom
that only lived in her mind's eye
she descends into her personal
heaven and hell
a pleasure center
alien to all she's been sold.

Dressed in black
in the casino
she puts it all on red.

She finds you there
she leads you out
to
the moon lite bay
where she steals your voice
and
leaves you
the wolf
howling at the moon.

When desires are freed
they pick up speed
she is, of course,
filled with remorse
so alien from her former course.

As her longings devour her
a tiny light of hope remains
and for the day
into the bottle tightly capped
her desires,  put away
once again remain.

She walks out of that
claustrophobic room
the candles burned down
only Jasmine smoke remains
the lingering scent of the bay
the echo of a wolf howling at the moon
lingers in colors of red and black

And to her husband
she briefly smiles
and
says
"Good morning"
once again
and
decides whether to go or stay.