Mistakes

 When all the things I had done had become things lain,

Fate passed on to fate, a monstrously withered vain,

The passage of time so mercilessly insane,

The valley of life creeped hollow in pain.

 

The things I had done, those fallacies from past,

Been lift up through time, so precisely recast,

I wonder when my mistakes stop spelling the lapses that arrive,

Decant from existence, yet so much more willing to thrive.

- Krisha Shastri