Forgiveness isn't, "I'll forgive you, if you'll forgive me," it's a symphony of lilacs in the springtime fields, and a song from the wren's delicate heart, it's when you awaken after a bitter night of anger melted into tiredness, and moments of grief turned to lavender scented pillows lulling you into a resplendent dream, of white doves ascending to Heaven carrying whispers of the world praying, as little workers in your mind build a bridge of steel cables of peace forged by God, whether there's reunion with those you've forgiven, or not.