Forgiveness

The light of forgiveness
never disappears,
making sun and moon
appear as poor watchmen.

Its breath causes vengeance
to succumb to a great silence.

But what is the substance
of this impassible light and breath?

A man who forgives is
an actor without a script,
a traveler in a new city,
a lousy gambler,
an ethical improvisor.

A man who offends is
a grammatical error,
a "road closed" sign in winter,
a chess grandmaster,
a sound moral argument.

When a man forgives,
he knows less about what it means
than the man who offends.