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Yesterday
Let's Count the Blessings!
Tsering Gurung
I wish I could return to the days of childhood,
When innocence was precious and happiness came naturally.
To live those little moments without the weight of burdens,
And grow into adolescence with a heart full of curiosity.
I wish I could embrace the days of adolescence,
When every little thing felt like a mystery,
When curiosity was greater than fear,
And dreams mattered more than responsibilities.
But somewhere along the way,
Those fleeting moments disappeared,
Replaced by worries I was never prepared to carry.
I wish I could relive my college days,
Surrounded by friends, laughter, and endless conversations,
Creating memories that time could never erase,
Learning to be bold, confident, and free.
Instead of spending lonely days wondering
Where my next source of income would come from,
And how much more I needed to earn
Just to build the life I dreamed of.
I wish I could count the blessings of my elders and parents,
To see them beside me, to hear their voices,
To feel their love surrounding me
And find comfort in their presence.
For some blessings are understood
Only when we begin to miss them.
I wish I could follow my passions and dreams,
With my family's support lighting the way,
With wings strong enough to carry me forward,
Without being held back by fear,
Or hurting myself while trying to prove my worth.
I wish I could become the person I admire the most,
To love without living in constant fear of loss,
To hold someone dear without forgetting myself,
And to understand that love should never
Require me to abandon who I am.
I wish I could pursue my greatest ambitions,
Without the fear of being judged by others,
Without allowing their opinions to become my prison,
And without letting my own doubts
Keep me from becoming who I am meant to be.
I wish I could become a leader,
Not merely someone who holds a position,
But someone who inspires others to rise,
Who leads with kindness and understanding,
And finds satisfaction in helping others shine.
I wish I could become a parent someday,
And build a family of love and understanding,
A home where kindness is freely given,
Where dreams are encouraged rather than silenced,
And where my children grow up happily,
Knowing they are loved just as they are.
And perhaps, as I count all these blessings,
I will begin to understand something new:
Life may not give me every moment I wish for,
Nor every person I long to keep,
Nor every dream in the way I imagined.
But perhaps the blessing is not just in what I have lost,
Or in everything I wish I could have had,
But in finding the courage to live,
To love, to grow, and to begin again.
So, let me count my blessings—
Not only for the life I wish I had,
But also for the life I still have the chance to create.
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Classic
Twilight Calm
Christina Georgina Rossetti · Public domain
    Oh, pleasant eventide!
    Clouds on the western side
Grow grey and greyer hiding the warm sun:
The bees and birds, their happy labours done,
    Seek their close nests and bide.

    Screened in the leafy wood
    The stock-doves sit and brood:
The very squirrel leaps from bough to bough
But lazily; pauses; and settles now
    Where once he stored his food.                                 10

    One by one the flowers close,
    Lily and dewy rose
Shutting their tender petals from the moon:
The grasshoppers are still; but not so soon
    Are still the noisy crows.

    The dormouse squats and eats
    Choice little dainty bits
Beneath the spreading roots of a broad lime;
Nibbling his fill he stops from time to time
    And listens where he sits.                                     20

    From far the lowings come
    Of cattle driven home:
From farther still the wind brings fitfully
The vast continual murmur of the sea,
    Now loud, now almost dumb.

    The gnats whirl in the air,
    The evening gnats; and there
The owl opes broad his eyes and wings to sail
For prey; the bat wakes; and the shell-less snail
    Comes forth, clammy and bare.                                  30

    Hark! that's the nightingale,
    Telling the selfsame tale
Her song told when this ancient earth was young:
So echoes answered when her song was sung
    In the first wooded vale.

    We call it love and pain
    The passion of her strain;
And yet we little understand or know:
Why should it not be rather joy that so
    Throbs in each throbbing vein?                                 40

    In separate herds the deer
    Lie; here the bucks, and here
The does, and by its mother sleeps the fawn:
Through all the hours of night until the dawn
    They sleep, forgetting fear.

    The hare sleeps where it lies,
    With wary half-closed eyes;
The cock has ceased to crow, the hen to cluck:
Only the fox is out, some heedless duck
    Or chicken to surprise.                                        50

    Remote, each single star
    Comes out, till there they are
All shining brightly: how the dews fall damp!
While close at hand the glow-worm lights her lamp
    Or twinkles from afar.

    But evening now is done
    As much as if the sun
Day-giving had arisen in the East:
For night has come; and the great calm has ceased,
    The quiet sands have run.                                      60
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