Acts of Faith

Each day begins as an act of faith. We cross our thresholds and expect That no cruel twist of fate Will stay us from returning. But the twists await us in their careless abundance, And well we know, in our hearts, that one day There'll be no more coming home again. For many it goes this way with love. Love parts, returns, then parts again Through all the shifts and flux of living, Oftentimes traveling a little farther out, Returning a little later With every passing day, until one day, almost unnoticed It comes not home at all.