Sometimes in the sound of things I remember,
Though by nature I’m inclined to forget.
In the beauty of all things forgotten,
the surprise defines all moments.
I hear in the voices of the children,
in my own voice too, though I may play reluctant,
The freedom of a passing moment captured,
Rendered real and different by our time.
In notions of my own self- deprecation
When I’ve renounced past Peter and sought Paul,
I merely beg forgiveness because I dared not assume it,
The fatal Christian flaw – the memory!
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