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Faith
In
yourself, your friends, family, god, gods, godess...whatever...
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from Fear it is born
given to guide and protect
Faith claims the righteous
precious, holy
Fate abandons the non-believers
a heretic burns
Faith escapes the portals of knowledge
executed for its crimes
against its own
only to be resurrected
as the image of another
Fear rises from the remains
wearing the mask
Fate is reborn
Faith reincarnate
the heretic is made God
and God smiles…
Natalie J. Case
traveling through the rummage
of the world-
revolting, changing, having mercy.
crossing cliffs of time,
i saw a man standing.
starving myself; going without food,
without bread-
i felt the man speak.
afterwards drinking this water
was a task;
sleeping till noon-labor.
borrowing nights i stole crumbs of
bread and devoured them
beside candlelight.
light: brilliant, destroying wax,
constantly changing.
cutting patterns in the sand
was no easy task:
the winds blew them away only to be made
again.
i think i'm being tested-
i think i'm not alone.
looking back, over my shoulder, viewing
the wreckage of my dream-
seeing blurred visions-
hearing discordant symphonies-
feeling existence without time.
knowing here my dream ended;
knowing here time went on
without itself.
how much simpler can i say it?
may i say it?
i gave away all my goods-
i loved those wolves who
devoured you:
not by fear, by ordinance!
the only enemy is ourselves.
creating out of nothing-myself.
standing here clawing the past with a
clawless hand:
defenseless, defending, doubtful.
traveling through the world
because i'm a wolf,
i became the rummage that you
sought.
i became not the wreckage
but the impact.
going through gray unknowns-up, up
out of sight,
i saw, immersed in time, a man.
knowing that to touch meant death;
that to love meant hate-
i touched! i touched!
now who's the poet?
who's the man?
© carlyle miller
I will build a temple
And a superb temple it will be
Not with sweat and brawn
With the loving laborers of my mind
Not of mortar and brick
Of trees and flowers
Not of glass and marble
Of birds and animals
Not of cloth and wood
Of mountains high and lush green valleys
Not of nails and paint
Of a gently flowing stream
Not of icons or rituals
Of peace and tranquillity
Not of cold linoleum and pictures
Of softly blowing warm spring breezes
Not of fear and guilt
Of sunrises most spectacular
Not of gold and incense
Of love, trust and yearning
I will build a temple, to stand the rigors of time
I will build a temple, that will be Yours and mine
I will build a temple, where You and I can Be…
I will build a temple for eternity
Tom Wood
Faith--I look at you
You are there
Silhouette or shadow
It whispers
To my inner
Soul
And lullabies
My craving
Heart.
Ross H. Bruce
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