Strange are the expectations of life
The world evidenced expects faith from the lot;
On that which is unseen, unheard of.
Intangibility craves for believers; and turns earthwards.
What I give is what I show – or so it goes;
Belief’s a tricky playpen, a maze even;
I’ve been running a race for long
But at every turn – a dark blind alley, it’s been.
Skepticism annoyingly asks-
“Show me the source; I’ll lend you my belief,” it promises.
But who believes these words – not even a believer!
Is faith such a dark continent of tricky travails?
Lead me to light, lend me a hand;
I’ll join in, if the journey is till the end.
By
Divya Rao
November 10, 2011
Mumbai
The world evidenced expects faith from the lot;
On that which is unseen, unheard of.
Intangibility craves for believers; and turns earthwards.
What I give is what I show – or so it goes;
Belief’s a tricky playpen, a maze even;
I’ve been running a race for long
But at every turn – a dark blind alley, it’s been.
Skepticism annoyingly asks-
“Show me the source; I’ll lend you my belief,” it promises.
But who believes these words – not even a believer!
Is faith such a dark continent of tricky travails?
Lead me to light, lend me a hand;
I’ll join in, if the journey is till the end.
By
Divya Rao
November 10, 2011
Mumbai
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