Faith, that unholy of trinities would
Hold well in the bowels of some,
Where the arrows are shielded gallantly
Without question nor remorse.
Where the trials of disparate souls
Would weaken the many,
Few stand - proud of their insanity.
When the certainty of principle,
Justice or morality cannot be purged,
But rather protected without malice.
An odd thing?
Where green specks are no
More shoots of recovery than
The newt that signals great health.
Rather jades of jealousy
That would tear blissfully
At the joy of Love, Faith and Friendship.
Therein the dilemma, to wander
Hopefully or aimlessly.
Both journeys equal
But for the spirit of the traveller
And the heart of home.
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