Woke up to my fingers scribbling

Pity has no soul my friend. The past hath no life! Good morning awesome world. # WokeupToMyFingersScribbling
What about the past?
Like a fowl ready for slaughter,
you put out your neck to its pity.
But pity has no soul,
it's power is in the fires of your soul,
your own soul.
And you say, what about the past?
Yes, what about the past!
like a heartbreak on a wedding night
At dusk when it came for you -
the past with its sibling regret
you teared up
You watched your own life take flight
Your voice pitched in your bosom
You did not cry
You teared up!
When morning came,
you barked at the sleeping dog
You saw birds wingless for the first time
You lifted your hands,
and the winds held it.
You screamed.
What about the past my friend?
The past has no life!
Why did you communion with him?
Has it not been said to
let the dead bury their dead!