Is the past beyond redemption?
Can not the truth be retrieved
from amidst this disorderly pile
of worn out tattered journals?
The dust that has collected,
must be sifted out from amongst
these scattered pages, uncategorized;
yet, containing the codes of my life.
A life, previously unraveled,
like nucleotides rearranged on a double helix,
twisting and turning along an invisible axis
of the original blueprint of life.
In the distance – a light –
that bears witness to the tragic notes,
sounded out throughout an endeavor
to peer through the darkness.
In time, the dust becomes
visible to the eye of the soul,
when the first ray of dawn,
shines through the window.
Every particle, suspended in the air,
for a brief moment, before settling
down on the floor, vanishes from sight,
like the bioluminescence of fireflies.