Faith

Faith is a cat, treading softly, with delicacy, with hesitation, unlike the dog-like dogma (so aptly named) which seeks to hold fast a believer in its proud, fierce and steel-like jaws. Yes, faith is beyond reason-- how could it not be when the mystery is more than any mind can seize and hold and eat.... And faith is a tease, a hope not fully formed but heavy, unlike its correspondent, the soul, so light no scale can weigh it, no meter can measure--but faith sweats and breathes and lives in fear of its own death like the fragile body and life it inhabits. Faith can be mocked so easily by those resolute like stone whose hearts are sealed and walled against wonder, magic-- the magic of the world, of air and sun and moonlight grace. The deep, deep magic of two who meet as strangers, then meld into friends, then bind in a power greater than death, a power cloaked in mystery: 'Why do I love him?' and 'Why do I so long for her?' This power, this mystery will never be contained, either by time or place or memories-- it will transcend even eternity. Thus faith is the child of love, real love, love unbounded, fierce, heedless, far beyond its greeting card counterfeit. Faith is found in the cracks, when reason is overwhelmed and hope seems near death-- then faith, never easy, never, never truly simple-- then faith will be tossed and turned and sometimes die, but more often thrive as it makes the soul one.