They say not to question God, for His ways are beyond our own.

It was a Sunday morning, watching the sweat pour from my father's face as he delivered the Holy Word,

"For I knew thee before I formed thee in the womb."

I gazed to the illumescent fields, thoughts developing in a fetal motion, forming but unsure and unready.

What if that verse doesn't mean all thatI have supposed?

I remember Whitman, a man of keen curiosities and micro-observation. I remember his words.

The soul, oh, the soul does live on.

The soul.

What is the soul?

The Father knows the Soul, and has known the Soul.

It was there, inspired by my Father's devotion that I learned the fragility of my own.

No, I am not a Christian. 

If I could collect the rage in my parents' eyes the moment they realized they birthed a Pagan, it would be strong enough to onset Revelations.

The pain, the war, the hesitation,

and the darkness of shedding a slimey skin of sin is no experience capable of explaining,

though I do live to tell these words:

Somewhere right in front of you awaits the Truth.

For me, it came from the very words that constantly left me feeling abandoned and alone.

On a Sunday morning, I learned from the lips of an evangelist to hear.

Hear, as the Word says, and listen.

We are a collective thought, viewing a four-dimensional idea in a billion angles.

Who decides which one of us is right?

No, it is no more a war for me to be right. 

It is no more a war to abide by the Word and the law of man, for I have found a key.

It is a beautiful key carved from a witch's chant as she calls to the Great Healer,

the same Healer of the Christian, the Jew, the Muslim, the Taoist, the Buddhist, the Atheist.

The same Healer, bilingual and blind to everything but Love.

Though I embrace my path, so will I sing for the paths of my brothers and sisters.

As they walk, evolve, question, destroy, create, hurt, and heal, I will sing for their journeys.

For Life is a concept beyond Earthly measure.

It is both the answer and the question.

The moment you feel you have figured it out, remind yourself that you know nothing at all,

and then laugh.

Laugh because it is the only good thing to do.

You must listen to the words of the Soul, whatever they may be. 

You must find the key.

And when you do, I long to sit by your side and to hear the tales of your life or lives' wonders.

My only hope is to see just one Soul recognize itself for the first time, just as my Sunday morning,

the look of utter fascination as they come to the realization, "Yes."

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


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