Blind Faith
I look for a sign.
If I could see His footprints,
or some honest to God relics,
like a lock of His hair
or the ring He wore.
If the LaBrae Tar pit were filled
with haloes and harps
perhaps,
I could believe.
If there was a place like Graceland
where I could
touch His bathrobe and bedroom slippers,
Then,
my faith
wouldn’t have to be
so blind.
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