Do I forgive me?
I don’t really know.
Do I stand in the sun
and feel its warm glow?
Or is there a void
down deep in my heart
keeping me from seeing
forgiveness’ art.
Is the chill in my bones
there when I’m hot?
Is the art of forgiveness
a gift that I’ve got?

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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