The Texture of Faith

In our poverty we loved. Even our dreams were impoverished.

But our eyes danced upon the symbols of love. We drew

Upon promise, afraid to hold God accountable. Soul-quakes

Overwhelmed our touch. Our oneness was imprinted upon

The clouds. We were filled with visions, intoxicated with

Faith. Starlit skies infused our passions—and our only

Ambition was covered in scars. But our spirits, mesmerized

By thoughts, wrapped in diamonds. The sun became an illusion.

We were dizzy, but alive, spellbound and satiated. Love was

Our sustenance. And life was a miracle, in favor of our

Ambitions. Thus, we drifted upon musical waves, electrified

From within. Our blood would boil, impressed upon by angels.

We could hear the mandolin of the future. It echoed within our

Souls. It was the color of hope—the texture of faith.