The night was pouring down hard.
Dropping down tear-shaped raindrops
On the dry asphalt of the sun-burnt roads
Abused by the scorching autumn sun

Opposite to my heart, the night was a shade of reddish pink
Instead of its usual perpetual black.
The peace of nighttime that was so often replaced with guilt was instead filled with sounds of static and light.

On these nights, I would lay and ponder on the
Barely finite number of transgressions I've made
With a near aleph-zero infinity of mistakes for every drop of this rain.

Every night,
Words and scenes reappear and repeat before my eyes and mind,
A loop of remorse and grief,
And only now, with the glow of the 1AM twilight, will I write it down.

My eyes were shut after every grueling luminous day. My mouth was shut after every recursive morning and afternoon.

Tonight, my eyes and mouth were wide open. The static of billions of crashing souls. The quake of the sky at every turn of the eye. The sudden fleeting flashes of hope and clarity.

And as the words flew through me and into the screen,
An experience that so long ago once emptied me of worry,
I found regret.