Faith is fear with wings

It soars high as my breath quickens

As eggshells tuck safely into my shins 

As I kneel, seeking recompense 

 

I make peace with convenient fantasies

Like a film reel, unspooling per my instructions

Till I inevitably slump into my hypocrisy 

I am a heathen without the conviction

 

A gold rush of beliefs

Cheapened by my constant negotiations 

A celestial orb, a bearded man, an uncertain hand, all appear before me 

Only to be overshadowed by the rage simmering within 

 

But my rage is confined by the circumference of the world 

And fear that I assume to be faith

And faith that I surmise is love  

That festers and blooms with time's passage

 

Perhaps the best course of action 

Is being a believer of convenience

Because when all's said and done

His fingers stroke my bruised shins