a concession

Honestly, I dislike seeing you.
Preferably, You would be invisible.
Aesthetically, You marr my vista.

I look away, I do something, anything, so I don't have to face you.
I'm sorry.

Truthfully, I could be you.
Frightfully, You are a part of me.
Apologetically, I need you.

I see you, falling, grappling, oozing in the grotesqueness of mischance.
I shudder.

Inwardly, You are beautiful.
Socially, Tracks divide us.
Outwardly, You are a nusiance.

If only, I would view you in a different light... the light of sun through stained glass.
I ponder.

Painfully, I admit my own horror.
Remorsefully, I claim my disregard.
Hopefully, I will make amends.

Somehow, I pray that grace will find you, the way it found me, saved me... from being you.
I reflect.

Faithfully, He is patient.
Lovingly, He looks at you and me.
Tenderly, He reminds us.

It is grace and love, mercy built upon mercy. Truth, patience, forgiveness.
I surrender.

Longingly, I desire more.
Consistently, I fall short.
Continually, Grace is needed.

A collection of snapshots taken in my head and played in a slideshow.
I discover.

Collectively, we are all the same.
Necessarily, we are obligated.
Fortunately, There is still time.

A chance is given, an opportunity taken, a groundwork laid.
I concede.