"And he believed in the Lord; and it was accounted to him as righteousness." (Genesis 15:6)

no;       Belief is more
than listening to the echo
                           of the unicorn's voice
chanting
                   as it leaps from mesa  to mesa
        above deep chasms in a steep




				

				
				 
				


 desert valley,
in search of the griffin
         that guards the egg of the phoenix
                  waiting to hatch and emerge
                                                    in flames.

no;     Belief is more
than opening a book
                          of ancient incantations
written in an undecipherable script
to be uttered in an inexpressible language
         that only the moon understands and speaks
as she elucidates her wisdom to the stars
         on nights
                          of the lunar eclipse.

no;     Belief is more
than cooking in a cauldron
                          a broth
                                  that brews:
olive leaves whispering their oracles in autumn
          and soft moss praying under snow in winter
                   and clover conversing with angels in spring
                           and mushrooms seeking portents
                                                  in summer.

no;      Belief is, deep-down,
                               the dry Bones
stripped of unnecessary sinews and flesh;
                               the brittle, bared, sun-bleached skeleton
scraped of extraneous skin and muscle,
        exposed;
and Belief is that Wind,
        that touches, like the hand of prophecy, the son of man
                 standing head-bowed in the midst
of a desert valley of dry Bones;
that Wind enabling him to lift his eyes
                          to breathe and justly answer:
"Yes;
these Bones can live."