On old ways, not yet inlearned
To press the big self destruct button,
What is the prescription
To not fall from grace
To the nth circle of hell?
A bandhan, self forgiveness,
A promise to rise,
Just one more time than
The times we fall?
A shoebeat, some ghee,
To calm the self, give discretion
Or some combination of all?
So I wonder how long
Is the rope of forgiveness
By which I hang and slip for years
Surely there is an end when the deeds run out
But I don't want to see that terminal end.
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