Counting

Sometimes I think I wear the wrong glasses, even when I don't wear them.
All looks so dark and cold, and it is so hard to see the light
At other moments all looks bright and sunny, and, no matter what I do, I feel happy and cheerful

And my mood seems to grow by the way I feel.
Bad moods ask to be fought out
Good moods ask to be cherished

When the mood is dark, the blessings seem countable, 1, 2...
When I start counting them, in those 'dark moments', it amazes me how many there are, EVEN with those darkness around me
The stars all gather
and shine on me
Friends, who never leave me
all the sudden shine brighter
when it is needed

It's bliss!