Forgiven

Memories,

that show no mercy,

they battering ram

against all attempts,

to quell,

or reconcile,

but, 

whether in dreams,

disguised in archetypal costume,

or

appearing at the strains,

of Saint-Saens,

Joni,

or those chanting monks,

they persist,

and, I suspect,

will,

until I can,

without a ripple of doubt, 

believe,

that I am forgiven.

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