What is a naive cardinal
In faith's business?
Or an impostor's doubt
In a dibia's house?
Why do men
Fan their pride
Fake disbelief
Yet-
Sustain an ideal
How are we as old as the night
Yet as blank as the day?
Is it not
The pertinence of death
That provokes legacies?
Not the insistence of life
That demands a way?
Note:
I have heard some Christian leaders embrace doubt on the pulpit as if it’s the ideal of the gospel. There’s a certain hypocrisy within us—how we can proudly claim our skepticism over ideals we secretly hold. This contradiction fascinates me, as it speaks to the moral fabric of our society and the internal struggles we all face.
How about our understanding of time and identity? We are shaped by our past experiences, yet confronted by the inherent emptiness of new beginnings. History weighs heavily upon us only because of the actions we repeat with our fresh chances. Moreso, death may be painful, but we give it life through legacies we make out of memories…
Finally, between the certainties of life are gaps of doubt, grief, and meaning.