Is remorse a prison to the soul
the sole utterance of reproach
that if not to myself be True
the possible best in life accrue

What if regret creeps on the morning
a thief stalking the shadow of dawn
fresh form, bare motive drawing
crystal arteries of a day that is new

or shall we allow the mind meander
let it's "work" find itself crowning
there in its core uncover simplicity
strip away a mournful state of heart


◄ new days seen

pact ►


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