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.
Comments about Faith by Mark Sauer
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You