No Bets

Here in my quiet corner Jesus culture seeps out of the phone at my left The day isn’t young The late pink of December’s evening gently informs me that evening is here I think and rage, I read and boil How dare they? I have known only one Way I have ever judged by only one standard, supreme above others Truth is: I realize that I share like thoughts As the fictional Kofo Ebaje And the very much real Moses Because I need to separate fact from its significant other Things we learn in ecclesia Do they really count as fact? Or are we held at the mercy of a spinning yarn? Are they just stories to soothe the heart? To hype the mind? In heart’s deep Bubbles up from that chasm The more sinister proposition of The eternal joke like Saeid of Cairo ‘Tis a frightful and pitiful thing, such thoughts However, I hold to the Way and I’ll see it to end Saving the rest for the next not-following period Something like the forever gamble But some part of me says: all bets are off While the other says: No bets