Is it wise

Is it wise

To envy the certain

It is a temptation

To accept a truth

Questioning

Is fraught with danger

When it so much easier

To believe,

Proof is written

In the faces of children

An innocent need

Love and trust

Are indivisible

Which may brook

Philosophical debate

But the undecided

Never wander

Too far from a belief

In fate

However simple a twist

To the narrative

This may be

We always knew

It would come to this

The answers were written

In the leaves

On the night of a blood moon

As dying stars fell

Out of a bell sky

It was a Friday,

The thirteenth

I heard a black cat moan

At the turn

Of a death card

In the hand

Of a seventh son

When evidence

Is circumstantial

Faith is a determinant

With greater weight

Than a point of view

That much

I do suspect

Is true