Faith

When light inside cabin is diminished,
a faint smell of burnt wood has eternalized
an emanation of love across the senses
from being wildly flaming for hours,
the darkness which follows is not to be feared.So when quietly listening,
to those that howl from woods,
for passion and closeness,
they too,
have not been sent as a scared sending for thought.

What comes about from the coolness,
that nightly air caressing the nakedness,
when standing within door’s open frame,
yellow eyes beam from the wooden thicket,
show moon’s ray of light with a belief.

Piercing every pour shown on body,
which has the soul wanting,
truth that is faith.
One step at a time,
still feeling a sense for touch,
no movement other than listing tree,
wavering of grass,
and time as moon makes way through sky.

Faith…
is all that makes the soul cry out for wanting,
a hope to touching what cannot be,
belief that falls deep into the glimmering of a star,
fearing nothing in the dark love of night,
so as looking up,
a dream is what the clouds bring by,
wandering thoughts for love of
little fairies wavering high,
blown out from hands which bare the scars of humanity.

Why are you standing naked within forest’s eyes?

Albert L. Wade, Jr.