True faith can not be measured by the hands of a clock or a marking on a ruler.  It is an unfathomable depth from which all spirit rises.  The faith unspoken—not even a barely audible whisper.  None spoken secret it maintains itself in the simple life force.  One can know faith but one must also feel faith.  That is the divine message.  The spirit must be submerged in the waters of communion and rise from it a holy cleansed spirit.  A monstrous faith enormous in proportion to false religions.  The demigods are purified in the waters of the soul.  All caverns of thought set heed in this simple message.  Ne’er fault the messenger for the message is correct and the spirit divine.  The rites of passage left to the flesh.  The sole battle of dominion in the sacred quest for Eden.  None to trial or hear the verdict of sentencing.  Pure faith stood up to test and glaring into the fires of the abyss.  Never matter more to do what must be done.  The faith of the sinner paramount to the folly of the priest.  The invisible assassins leave the false spirit dripping with blood of defeat.  But in the heart emerges the petal of a newborn faith.  The depth of the heart tapped at long last.





Author's Notes/Comments: 

written in my mid 20's when I was still clinging to Rimbaud

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allets's picture

This Is Different

from your current writing. Exploration of faith during onset of second decade alive. Unusual - metaphysical. Read it twice - slc




georgeschaefer's picture

you live, you grow--hopefully

you live, you grow--hopefully