To forget your sins, and all that follows—
Can that be called a bliss?

To remember
Is to hold pieces of shattered memories
Inside your decaying body, again and again,
without end.

To remember
Is to live inside a prison of your own making,
Where chaos gnaws at your soul.
You cannot loosen destiny’s grip.

To forget—
It is mercy from God.
A blessing? A curse?
To forget
The roots of your corruption inside your heart.

Someday, perhaps we’ll forget our sorrows,
As white blooms in your hair too soon,
Replacing the black that never had its time—
As your corruption fades
When we reach the dusk of life.

Then maybe
We will finally rest in spring’s light,
As it gently kisses your soul...
Returning home,
While golden light blinds your eyes.

But you wake.
You realize the prison still holds you.
The hand of destiny still clutches
The twisted string of your life—
Frayed with sin and sorrow.

And you understand...
We will never go back
To our first home.