In the short span of consciousness, not often the wastelands of the mind have seen the misty clouds of heavenly rain but neither is it wholly a desolate land and yet many a times, though I am myself a villain of the utmost nature, I have forgiven my foolish mind for its lapses and confess I will have to, that it is challenging, almost impossible and yet what motive motivates mine mind towards forgiving itself? What end, do I keep in the heart when forgiving?
As it is known to many a sagacious thought that the heart, though cleaner than many things, is not devoid of any dark matter, of any evil, any wound or resent; this darkness spreads a dark web upon the soul, sucking all or any happy thought from the mind. To evade the weaves of this darkness, I, therefore, forgive and if, by any happenstance, you glimpse inside my mortal heart, you would find besides malice but naught. By now, Reader, you would think me over humble but I am merely confessing my crimes and in this short life I have wronged too much and too many, to be forgiven; yet, I hope…
To err is human; to forgive divine.
Many dictums have been passed by fools, yet it is in the light of truth that forgiveness is an attribute of the Divine, but that raises, in itself, a challenge for mind; is not a human heart gifted with the gift of forgiveness? Are not the worn pages of history, with tales of clemency, filled? Does not the purer heart, of mother, forgives the foolish child? It is not, in the book of reality, that forgiveness is solely a gift of immortals to gift but rather that it is an act of divine circumstance or more clearly it is the property of divinity from which we inherit.
If, Reader, thou hast some belief in divinity, thou would believe that every goodly deed done by a mortal is a power of the divine, a mere mortal’s request, therefore, forgiveness, we inherit from the divine. It is said that a man is a constitution of three sentient levels; the mortal, the devil, the divine. This inheritance makes up our divine part and forthwith our mortal consciousness is requesting, a mortal can do naught but ask, henceforth whence our consciousness descends below our mortality, we commit crimes of utmost nature and often forget, this is the deviled consciousness.
Our perception beholds, nearly in every tale of forgiveness, a stranger’s love; we see, in the forges of love, the blade of forgiveness forged and touch the forgiver’s soul with its coldness, imbibing all the remorse, all the repent, all the hate we are unfolding towards our sinner. Tell me, O Reader, canst thou, in thy hands, hold the blade of forgiveness and let it touch thy soul, when, by a folly didst thou set foot on this world of mortal consequence? How canst thou forgive when thou art, yourself a blackened soul?
Remember, Reader, you cannot forgive unless you forgive yourself, forgiveness is, hence, a healer, a gift you gift yourself, a peace you make with fate; to forgive, you must understand your inner self, your hidden soul and then just let all the remorse, all the hate, all the grudges go and behold! You are forgiven for in the very end, it is you asking forgiveness and in the deepest chambers of thy heart keep this though that forgiveness is freedom, freedom of soul, freedom of heart, of spirit and of mind.
Oftentimes, my sight curses me with prospects of such resent that I have to choose but to turn away, in clear fresh air, my drums beat with profanities thrown so carelessly, in the fragrance of roses my senses bear me whiffs of revulsion and crime and in the valley of dreams, I vision the heinous acts of mortal with mortal eyes and I ask them, “Why do you not forgive?” and in response their voices reach the sky and yet I hear no answer. I see, I hear, I smell, feel and taste these perfect imperfections and forgive them my share of forgiveness, for I have made peace with fate and this world is but a speck of dust, before fate. I have seen that, much uncleanliness has spread in this world, where once there was naught but fragrances of lilies and voices of laughter and sights to amaze even the immortal eye but that world, that haven, used to leave its fragrance behind, when trampled upon, now it leaves nothing and if something is, by happenstance, left behind, it is not pleasant and that is enough.
I do not intend to judge the powers of this world, but unintentionally my voice may have inflicted some damage and for that I ask forgiveness for it was fate and not me.
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