Origins (1)

From early on, looking for an answer,
One single, clear explanation enthralled,
To ease an intellectual fracture

Of how this grayish world came to be called
The home of many, of various kind,
Together and apart, hopelessly walled

From an origin they're hoping to find.
Wandering in thought, as nomads by birth,
Was it a good God - or a watchmaker blind?

Upon their suspicion they base their worth.
Where are we from, the argument begins.
A battle for high ground, there is no mirth.

Each to his own thoughts, on this earth, it spins,
Until tribe against tribe - and no one wins.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

A Terza Rima Sonnet written for dVerse Poets ~ Form for All ~ Terza Rima

No Room For Doubt

In the pious ghetto,

 

shuttered,

 

gated,

 

safe,

 

no room for

 

doubt

 

between the lines of

 

faith.

 

Pharisees mutter,

 

"apostate"

 

via emails of

 

concern

 

and the little children

 

run

 

from the

 

questioner.

 

 

©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Written for dVerse Poets ~ Open Link Night