Poetry

Is It Faith

Moving mountains

Photo by Matt Sclarandis on Unsplash

Unescapable fate we wrap so willingly
Around our shoulders and desperately call it hope
Or a faithless surrender, like a horoscope
As it becomes our destiny so seamlessly?

Hoping for the best or bowing blindly to fate
We revel in despair, or long for green pastures
Fate, auspicious disguise to cowardly postures
Hope, hollow-point bullet served on a silver plate

Illusions, however, white sheet hiding the shame
Of lost lives we abdicate to superstitions
Floating on a sea of heathen supplications
Hope? Fate? Immutable destiny be thy name?

Unless we call thy “Faith”, and quite so suddenly
Find ourselves moving mountains instead, fatally

These verses were inspired to me by one of the poems of the illustrious Thief.