Someone asked him
do you believe in
God?
His answer:
I believe in
doubt...
but at the same time
fear
plagues me
for not believing.
The guilt of it.
The steaming pit.
And the Nazi knocking at my door.
The attic full of lost souls.
And life pressing its
dirty nose against my window.
I find my world,
our world wanting.
We do not live within our capabilities,
but often in our pasts,
and thus in our fears.
Do I believe in
God?
I need to believe
in myself
and more than
white-knuckle determination.
That there is something called
joy at the end,
when everything else has been
sifted out.
If God is there,
then I will greet Him.
Copyright January 21 2012 All Rights Reserved By Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo Tilt-a-World