Let the world count its silver and gold,
I shall count the mornings that find me awake,
the laughter that gathers around my table,
and the wonders my eyes have yet to behold.
Give me the roads whose endings I know not,
the trees whose names I may never learn,
the butterflies that ask for no audience,
and the unexpected corners where joy takes a turn.
I shall dance when the music finds me,
sing when my heart remembers its tune,
weep when my heart has sorrow to bear,
and still lift my face to the sun and the moon.
For what wealth is greater than wonder?
What fortune more precious than breath?
To awaken without promise of tomorrow,
yet greet this day as a gift, not a debt.
I know not the roads Heaven is weaving,
nor the purpose of each passing day;
but I trust there are blessings still forming
in the moments that wander my way.
So let my pockets know prosperity,
and my table be crowded with love;
let gratitude grow beyond measure,
for the earth beneath and the heavens above.
And should I live to a hundred mornings more,
or a thousand seasons pass me by,
may I never grow poor in astonishment—
I shall be rich till I die.
With Grace & Ink,
Mai
