has no exit to despair.
A faith too pure's a prison in disguise.
Passion is the impetus for prayer,
Pleading for more hope than meets the eyes.
Yet lack of faith can, too, be too complete,
Emancipating one from all that matters,
A separate, though quite equal, self-deceit,
Sustained by reason, that one's flailing
Truth demands fidelity to pain,
Ecstasy that comes and goes again,
Revealing nothing but a faith in