Skeptic

You said the colors fell out of the rainbow,

the rivers have flowed themselves dry,

the mothers have loved themselves empty,

and the flowers just bloom and then die.

You say more with your eyes than your tongue now,
all the things with no words and no names.
You've lost all your hope without knowing how,
 and the dark's stolen more than it claims.

The canyons inside were born from just cracks,
untended they grew till they gape.
You think there's no remedy for all your soul lacks,
No living without constant escape.

Time moves like an insomniac lover,
frenetic paralysis of mind.
You think it's a sickness from which to recover--
your body's ahead and your spirit's behind.

You're swathed in the fear of unassailable truths;
you cover your eyes and stand still.
The inside of your mind is graffitied with proofs
of the uneasily known, the hidden by will.

Infallible Him and fallible he
stand wrapped in a tangled embrace.
In violence you wrestle--you long to be free
and never once look up at His face.