Is faith resilient?
Cultural answers say, yes. The ruler of the miseries, to measure out insanity,
with souls coming apart. Faith is washed, rinsed, and set on asphalt for
review. Stepping upon sidewalk, playing by piano, so possessed inside; a
spatula to us, flipped and moving, when I saw her, I knew the rules, and I was
unsettled. I wanted innocence, so amazing, those things we want from what we
admire. Many discuss it. It has
become a rule of thumb to ask: Is the Father not with us anymore? Over teacups and sunbirds, so
skyward, tiptoeing and tapdancing.
Trying to decode weather,
dripping wet, beneath the deepest sunshine; like life is on repeat. Wanting what
I couldn’t be. Sailing into the danger zone. What we see isn’t correlated with
what we want. Listening—not hearing! Thinking—not seeing! Touching—not feeling!
So absurd, only Camus would fathom, too nihilistic not to care.
