It is not the way.
The universe has no empirical data. Forgiveness
is not a primal urge. The natural order demands
unconditional submission to its rules. Oceans
bury their troubles deep, what the mountains
do not tell the clouds is debatable. But dawn
returns, over and over, despite the night. That
is neither mercy nor vengeance. I must have
forgiven you, a long time ago. But writing it
down like this makes it real. Like a confirmation
of rebellion. Not that it is useful.
Nothing goes away.
The debris swirls around until it is sucked into
an unforgiving vortex. Forgiveness is not
divisible. You cannot forgive in instalments. All
or nothing. One gets all. The other, nothing. Yet,
this must be done. So we can return to the laws.
Stay in our orbits. Not confuse gravity with
want. Light with love. We will pass each other
sometimes. You will cast a dark shadow. They
will call it an eclipse. I will forgive you. It will
not matter. This much is allowed.
It doesn’t get better, anyway.