Mistakes made

I don’t know what’s more
frightening, that I made
mistakes that ruined my life,
or that I’d make the same
mistakes if given a chance
to do it all again,
I’d love her with the same
passion though it killed me,
I’d let myriad memories
of us soften me, change me
from someone who waged
war with the world to
a person who accepted
defeat with grace,
as the sun bleeds and day
meets night, the red afterlight
washes me, the
colour of both reminiscence
and rebirth, and I wonder
if we’re truly free,
if God made all our choices
before we breathed
our first, because I’m sure
in another life, in another
time where the golden
light of dawn cuts through
the silvery clouds,
the waves kissing my feet
as I stand on the beach,
I’ll make the same decisions,
to love her with an undying
love that triumphs over
reason and circumstance,
to hold her in my arms
regardless of whether
everything’s falling apart
or held together by
irrespective of whether there’s
a rent in my soul swallowing
my peace
or one in the world
consuming darkness and
setting everything ablaze
with righteous light.

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