Sacred Ground
What I know
to be true,
the proven facts,
sit like anchored stones
in a wild river.
Here, my steps
are certain, placed firm
on a familiar stone.
Other times I tread
with faith, a fashioned,
well worn hope
held together
with a rebar of reason.
Both get me across.
But it's the unknown
that sets nothingness itself
below my feet, the path
I mostly tread,
trusting in something
to hold me solid
on sacred ground
that is neither up
nor down
and I have no need
to cross.
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