Is There Redemption? (Revisiting my first poem)

I revisited my first poem today
wondering who I was back then.
It was written from my history crashing into
a young lady in a coffee shop,
waking me from a numbing sleep
to face the wrong I’d committed years before.

My enthusiastic seeking of animal pleasures got the best of me,
leaving two souls with regrets.

That guy wasn't much different than who I am today.

But now I know that even regrets may hold magic.
Damaged hearts may feel love and carry scars that
add pleasure to their passions as they are redeemed
in the selfless giving to another.

Had her scars been healed by the family she made and love she spread?
Had my scars become badges of pride in my tireless pursuit of pleasure?
Would there never be redemption for me?
If offered, would I even accept it?

Both love in its purest form and the lusts of our hearts in their sprouting seeds of obsession remain always worth the seeking.

And so, I seek.