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Believe in things you cannot understand

But realize you do so at great risk.

Pretend that you are sure of something grand

But where all roads lead in the end is this:

Hidden uncertainty gnaws at your heart

reveals to you the blindness of your views;

and every faith from faith sometimes departs

in Wiccan coven or Southern Baptist pew.

What then?  Should we abstain from all belief

because the world is too complex to know?

Or will we fall at length with strained relief

again to things that we think should be so?

The question of it all begins with this:

We must cope with the fact that we exist.
©2004-2009 ~berenwasteland
:iconberenwasteland:

Author's Comments

A sonnet about uncertainty. The title is probably far more apt than I would like to admit...if the general consensus seems to be that it's too obscure, then I'll make an explanation. But I'd much rather let my work speak for itself, if at all possible.

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:iconaseariel:
and so we do exist. and this is the hardest thing to cope with, at times.

i like it, though i'm not sure i get it :P oh well. ^^; i can still tell that it's good.

:glomp:

--
"don't you ever get lonely?" "only around people"
:snowflake: oh the angst! :blackrose: :faint:
---

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October 24, 2004
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