Praised be those who
worship God with love
And set aside the enmities of old.
Salvation is a tale often told,
Sensing what one can't be certain of.
One's faith precisely is what one can't
Vivid though one finds it to behold,
Each touch of truth a moment wrought in gold,
Revealing what no turmoil can remove.
Even so, belief must be a choice,
As fact ought not, nor probability,
Sure only of what can be proven wrong.
The muse of faith requires an inner voice
Emanating from a soul that's free,
Respecting all that each might find her