there is a world to see.
Sorrels and stars,
quasars and gars,
pulsars and knars--
made for us free--
did not just come to be.
Faith does not bind,
but falls on feet fixed firm.
Planted in picotees,
rooted in rosaries,
girded in galaxies,
(or professed in poetries),
no squirming wraith or worm,
faith is a pachyderm.
Faith is not seen,
yet it has eyes to see
love--in the moon above,
gene--in the evergreen,
God--in the goldenrod,
Word, from the Gospel, heard
softly in me.
Faith's not routine,
for it comes with a price--
cost of what has been lost,
doubt that we're missing out,
between unseen and seen,
always some sacrifice,
but, by the best advice,
well worth it--paradise.
-- by Pete Voelz 2000
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