Find the Day

Tumbling heart-struck over common sense
Down this twilight terrestrial path,
With eyes fixed upon the surrounding hills,
I lay down every belief and hope
Before the clear, fiery eyes of inquiry,
Discarding all the weighty accumulation
From all my days of rites and sacrifice
To teraphim of my own design and hand.

You protest, “To brash!”—but I demur,
There is not time enough for less,
Than to live this hope where passion burns.
We choose to live or die each day
Upon the search for light and truth, and
If we expose to fire all we believe,
And lose what, desperate, we have tried to save,
We will, held by love and hope, find the day.

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© 2019 Thomas B. Fideler

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