The Cycle of Penance

is all about the light, the light
changing now, I am a dark ghost
a measured fading turned
silver edges dull

stripped of my ability
to adhere.

Unwisely expectant in
another world, I freely gave
without embrace or trust;

I drank the milk but
never tasted.

There are three kinds
of creation, the first
separation of memory

from spirit creating
light.

The second, a random
page torn from story,

scribbled out, the chosen
life.

The third, a fibrillating
heart that suffers for
its history of blackness,

forgiven.