Faith in All Its Irony

Faith..........., it may begin
as the hallmark of lunacy. For
who could find solace in that which lies
not a rhyme or reason written in stone?

Trust in this substance should I, that which,
from only a mustard seed,
magically becomes path clear
of stubborn anguish and
mental debris?

Hitherto have not the gifted minds
of grafted men delved deeply enough
seeking, desiring the discovery of but a
single hole for which to reach through and turn faith
inside out and in respect of their magnanimity can
one not profer reason enough to
sow fears within?

Perhaps we may find that what

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poem by Bryan E. DeYoung
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