FAITH

I see a stone on the wayside,

Having a red paint on it,

Place it under a papal tree,

Wash it with water from the river,

And it did not shed the color.

I trust the color to be divine and natural.

I take it as a holy replica of god,

Bow my head and open my heart,

Shed my tears of honest devotion,

Offer my verses as prayer,

Left all my worldly alignments,

Build a hut to focus on care and worship of my faith.

The pages of the calendar changed,

Bushes of unheeded beard grow on my face,

Eyes sink into the sockets,

I remain unheard,

Still, my trusts on Him never shake,

 I never deviate from my path of devotion.

May a temple of my devotion be constructed,

 Or my tomb,

Where I bow, I bow until my last air.