That I know not
From where this soul originated,
Being neither apostle or acolyte,
I concede a doubt.
This is not quite as unbelievable
As deepening thought might explain.
I converse the altar and the wound,
The flesh and spirit.
At the heart of deduced belief
Is reason, not reasoning.
When this occurs,
Then the wonder of the universe
For where faith is seeded
A hand extends, a heart bleeds.
In a flash of kindness
Love survives any event horizon.
If you can name it
It comes home to reason.
These are the particles,
Of the Ontological.
©️ 2019 Christopher Thompson All rights reserved