Even on days like this

In the hungry chasm of Empty Space
Where someone else’s music plays
I, like you, keep my small quiet Faith.

I see you, though my eyes get blinded in what passes for light.
We abide in the Awful Dark
Like mushrooms, we form musty coded connections
Beneath the world that flickers its lies
On the walls raised to keep us blind, apart.

A quivering hand around the last flame,
A touch between strangers among the last stand.
A glance in the metro
That shatters the Loneliness – for a clear shattering instant.
And sets me back onto my collective and singular course.

Where there are….

No precepts, no concepts and no institutions,
No tenets, no creed, no final solutions.
No temples, directives or codes to employ
No history, no story
No art or philosophy.
No politics, no magic, and no revolution
No oppression, no freedom
No romance, no tragedy

No Me and no You
No You and no Me


This faith is not yours
It is also not mine.
It refuses to march, to chant or
 to rhyme. 

It knows the difference between Right and Wrong
Without preachers.

Don’t look for it in books
It would rather hit you over the head with one.

Hope I can lose like my car keys.
But Faith
Can say No to Despair
Even on days like this.


About subincontinentia

writer and eternal optimist
This entry was posted in epoche and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Even on days like this

  1. Julie Marron says:

    You’re amazing. And just what I needed to read xxx

  2. Thank you. I thought it weaker than some but it was what came out and I’m trying to trust that and not over fiddle. Love to you xx

  3. Kevin says:

    I love the lines, starting- Like mushrooms-A glance in the metro, clever and touching.
    A small quiet faith would help, even on days like that!
    Encore, a great poem Becky.

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