How many times will I delete this first line?

How many lines will turn sour in my mind?

I have something to ask, but have the answer. 

I have something to say, but no reason to say it. 

 

I understand that I must stand aside and allow the play to unfold. 

I must stand, replaced, jealous of an unfavorable position. 

To give up the role that never existed, that was perceived but never actualized

 

 To give up and watch, waiting, till the collapse

and to give up the urge to gloat when the patterns collapse

When the end is here, celebration seems petty

How do you celebrate peace? 
How do you forgive without reconciling?

I have lots of questions

and no intentions of prayer