Faith Poem by Mark Sauer

What matters is, what's left when you are rid
Of clean mathematical certainties,
Things sure as an axiom in Euclid;
The "I" is the residual, the lees
Remaining in the drained cup of reason.
The only questions worth asking are those
Without answers, and the only treason
Is betrayal of those answers you chose
Yourself, alone in your heart; not knowing
If they were true, but making the leap
To the man you hope to become, sowing
The seed of that true self, that God may reap.
Pledge in the womb to the banner you choose,
Knowing, like Hector, your army might lose.