Coming to Terms

Coming to terms with the pain,

Not hurt now,

But the memories still pierce me,

My friend saved me,

But nothing can save me from the past,

From my memories.

Trying to come to terms with all that has come to pass,

To make right by my past.

I know I will have regrets,

I know I could not escape them.

And when I look deep. I’m glad I made them.

To show me the truth I otherwise would not have seen.

To show me the corrupt in the gold.

To strip me of my humanity and show me the inhumanity in existence.

I am content, but these thoughts, the past.

Come so far,

Made so much progress.

Coming to terms. That is another matter.

Always another time,

One delay after another.

Oh how the past can sting, can hurt, can pierce.

I am coming to terms,

Making my mistakes right.

Letting go of mistakes that found me in their cold grasp.

Coming to terms, with everything, totality, existence.

Coming to terms with life.

Tree of Paths

This tree of paths,

Memories scattered,

Doors closed.

Times happen,

Those memories remain.

The good and the bad, continue on.

Changing and moving,

Some toxic without end.

These are mitigated by happiness and friendship.

But there are so many paths, so many futures, memories.

A universe of possibilities,

Questioning reality, all the realitie.

My fatalistic outlook to the darkness and pain of being.

The tree of paths branching out, bringing people back into nature,

Back into being.