appealing

[wherein the metaphor of the test does not go unnoticed]

all i know is one day not so long ago
your word may have been good enough
but that changed in shades
and it was bigger than me, and you.
i was tired from guessing how it should-be
and from thinking so little about it-is
so i won't apologize for my second guess
(or my first)
because it's not you that needs to be forgiven,
you have been absolved for days
but i, on the other hand, need forgiveness
not the pardons you've been giving me
but real, inside out forgiveness for the sins i could have committed
thought about manifesting,
mixing realities in a test tube and presenting
all of myself in pieces that mislead the whole
and i've run out of ways to ask, except one
and prayer was not the point, but i can't seem to escape it
struggling over some puzzle from my past about who i was that second,
a day, a week, a year
for twenty-five years,
those attempted solutions get filed somewhere else
on a desk already full of crisis that beg resolve in the now
the now you've given up thinking about
because of a deadline, because of results, because of the yet-to-be
but i've just finished a quarty-century intensive study
on why this must be concluded on my own.