
At day's end could we peaceful sleep
had not we cleansed and buried deep
each thoughtless word from that day's slate
on billboards we, with gall, create?
Do friends whom our approval seek,
deserve from us for query meek,
our mean retort, creating debt
of hasty words we'd best regret.
Do we ignore our past misdeeds
when pious mob new target needs
so all can *pharisize with stone
their sin, yet kind, forgive our own?
What guilty wretch could we convict
if deeds, so wrong. ourselves depict?
We host our memories but never let
our guilt survive, we do forget.
Could we, when praised for worthy acts,
abashed recall demeaning facts,
or righteous glow, ourselves entranced
by our past deeds, by time enhanced?
At last when at the Judgement throne
when asked what sins we must atone,
since Life demands all payments met,
it's kindest gift, we can forget!
If death would let us fresh begin,
to heal past hurts, erase each sin,
would one of us refuse that break,
the past undo, accounts remake?
For when we're laid to endless sleep
but sleepless lay though buried deep,
and past misdeeds still cause regret
it's nice to know, folks do forget.