I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded
I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.
My soul is not asleep.
It is awake, wide awake.
It neithr sleeps, nor dreams, but watches,
its eyes wide open, sees
far-off things, and listens
at the shore of the great silence.