every wind of doctrine

the rippling of a thought
wavering on every wind of doctrine,

far from placid pleasantries

yet disguised so closely as such,

yet to move, nay, swayed

by the persistent pressing

of belief or ignorance

drawing you ever so swiftly,

an intangible dragging of your soul

to the corner of Iron and Time

where the beating of the water

against your brow hastens

to make you blink and miss

the Light, ever present, yet breaking

the blindness of the gray,

loosening the blur of the rain

of philosophic phrases,

oh, to grant just a glimpse of glory

in the hull of your soul,

ever breaking to be redeemed.