How Many Times

Will I hear the click click of my father's lighter?
Will my mother attribute all my skin and weight problems to nuts and carbohydrates?
Will I awake with a sense of what I should do and immediately rebel?
Will I go for just a little more sweet dessert?
Will I ask myself what I should do?
Will my dad say, it doesn't matter. Or, the only real explanation is the Annunaki. Or, honey, you've got to get over using this word: "God".
Will I hear the coffee grinder in this house?
Will my mother say "Barama"?
Will I wake up in this room and bemoan the fact that I am here?
Will I check my gmail inbox? And find nothing, again? Or find another message from a friend which delights me?
Will I wonder what my purpose is?
Will I be discouraged by the thought of what COULD HAVE been?

How many ways can I say thank you for what I do have?
How many ways do I regret every second of intolerence or discouragement?
How many ways does the universe inspire life and growth each and every day?
How many times has the moon been through it's luminous to dark cycle?
How many days will the sun rise? Set? Shine?
How many lives will I lead?
How many people may I smile at?
How many people may I wonder with?
How many people may I offer a kind word?
How many chances will I have to forgive everything about my parents and everyone around me which ever once disturbed me?
How many chances do I have to get it right?
How many times am I allowed to fail?

dear infinite presence and everything true I am with you. Help me always be clear on this.