I sit,
I remember,
I think about
when I read Kierkegaard
a few hot July’s
ago.
I sit,
I remember,
I think about
his
thoughts on
faith.
About it being spontaneous.
A leap into nothing.
A mental event
without cause–
free–
ultimately
pointing towards the
supernatural.
I FEEL like that exists
somehow,
I FEEL like I wait for those
moments,
unbound by
causation,
the will,
clumsy
intention.
I wonder, is faith a feeling (question mark)*, **
Does that even make sense to say out loud (question mark)*
I don’t really think so.
But:
I feel like my body KNOWS
that such freedom exists,
on some primordial level,
even though my head rejects
even
the
thought
of
it.
(It made me sea sick,
at the time,
to think about such a thing.
It makes me sea sick now,
but for
different reasons.)
*the question mark is comically broken on my computer so for the duration this will have to do.
** I need to change this, it doesn’t make sense in the context of what I said, I need to think about it for a while tho.
i am new here,will you see my first poem and tell me how it feels to you,the name of poem is life..