Repentance The well is dry without the bucket The eyes of Jesus unblinking a four hundred year wait The least I can do is give him a chance A blue Felicia genuflects by the monastery door I try to impersonate the flower it can’t be anything else This seems to work as what must be repentance empties me I’m sorry I breathe I was not worthy of this gift The sunlight holds still on the stone floor and everything changes
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