You are speechless upon waters encompassing all that is UNTITLED
Until word strikes your lip with the severity of a name,
Until you are no longer balancing with uncertainty
Along the lucid brink an ambiguous wave,
And finally, finally you feel rough concrete
Against your toes,
And fall back unto the welcoming security
Of solid ground.
Faith seeps its way between your widened arms
And spread finger
And, though lip refuses to depart with lip,
There is a smile painted upon silent flesh.
And nestled warmly within the crooked silver of apparent salvation,
— That is this ground –
With your head cradled by cushion as inviting
As that white velvet on your hands,
— That is your trust –
Is the veiling, deceptive ignorance
Of faith without question,
Submission without credibility,
Absolution without consideration of truth through empathy,
For if seven billion people kneed this earth
Balancing upon their shoulders
A block of stone perception,
We will never grow into the harmonious fluidity
That we have potential to become.
We will instead collide; continue to collide,
Finding on ourselves another corner of shattered flesh
Every morning in the mirror.
Only when you push yourself off your back,
And squint your eyes,
And peer around that silver of blind faith
That has become your only reality
Do you recognize those curious, uncertain waters
In vast proportion to stable ground.
Only when you open your mouth
And question the tangibility of a label
Can you find faith in inquisition.
The culture of the unknown is visible to our pride
Only when you find the strength to break the silence.