Apeirogon

Apeirogon

A therapist once told me

that it’s impossible to forgive 

without understanding reason. 

For months now, I’ve believed.

I’m not a Christian, I must be clear.

I know the earth isn’t flat, but round. 

That absolute power corrupts, absolutely.

The heart is nothing but a muscle and machine.

I’ve sat on the top decks of buses alone.

Piecing together the jigsaws of people.

The impossible tasks of atonement and love 

are actions lost in words. As if poems like this.