Faith

 

I am incurable.  I am sent away to the ancient one

Who tells me to float on the ceiling of his cave.

This surely is a test of faith.  Once I was a noble

Warrior who fought a holy battle for the good.

The dogma of my god is discipline and honor;

I thought I followed it to the letter.

Yet in a heated moment I lost control,

My lord doesn’t smile upon me anymore.

Now I sit before the wizened ancient hermit

Of the order, who is the wisest among our

Kind.  Now he tells me to float on the

Ceiling of his cave.  I knew before only compassion

And fighting the good fight.  I know nothing

Of floating.  I try, I concentrate.  On the

Way here, I fought many battles, using

All the honor I could muster, hoping

To be redeemed.  This new test seriously

taxes my wits, I doubt myself, consequently,

My lord.  Still I try, try. Try try.

And watch the ancient one, who has

Proven the feasibility of the faith, who

Is quite definitely floating on the ceiling of

His cave.  He stares down at me in disdain,

But doesn’t explain how he did it.  I close

My eyes, clear my mind, envision myself

Swimming among the upper reaches

Of the cave.  But swimming doesn’t come. 

Only a stronger attraction to the ground,

A gravitational realization that true faith

Makes a man float, gives him the ability

To attain possibilities beyond mortal men.

I don’t know now if my faith was ever true,

If I was god’s or just my own, who used

Piety as an excuse for my own inadequacies.

I am incurable.  The ancient one mentions

For me to leave, because I cannot

Float on the ceiling of his cave.

 

-Mickey DeCicco