Sarah Collins has been at it again! . . . The Camera angle might look Douchy but that is the only place I could get it to stay still.
Untitled Poem by Sarah Collins
I had a conversation when our young minds collided,
About death and religion and where the rested souls abided,
Although said with stoic conviction and intentions were sweet,
He tried to sell me his religion in his half hourly meet.
He asks what will become of you when your spirit departs,
Where will you end with your atheist heart?
But my old friend is mistaken, faith is not futile,
My mind wanders a different path but there is no denial.
I am told of tribulations and sacrifice for the sake of mankind,
Of prophets that wandered and found theistic signs,
We talked of wars and bloodshed that were born of religion,
And exhibited historical stories of the facts against fiction.
For a short time we are lost alone in contemplation,
Like a chess player but our moves are of theorizations,
He pushed me further, what do you believe?
Tell me to whom do you turn when in the throes of grief?
When in times of affliction and unbearable doubt,
When my world is failing and panic surrounds,
I find solace and guidance in what's good and what's right,
In the beauty of kindness and the will to survive.
With his initial appeal, did I grant an adequate justification?
It is in selflessness and integrity where I place adoration,
So when life is fulfilled, where is the essence of you bound?
It is with those that I have loved that my spirit will be found.
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