All or Nothing

If time were clay that offered me a chance
To shape anew the path that brought me here,
To mould it would undo the sorrows past,
Yet lose the wonders sorrow made more dear.

The flaws I bore have ripened into grace,
The joys I gather bloomed from mire and thorn;
Erase one pain, and light would lose its place—
The stem would wither where the fruit was born.

My memories hold both light and bitter strains,
Twined by a fate that spun them into thread;
I’d keep the ache that scorched through joys and pains,
For losing loss would leave my marvels dead.

The roots of anguish feed the blooms of worth—
For wonder thrives where hardship scars the earth.