Something to believe

When we wake up as fragments in some cubist painter’s mind

And form & function fail and no purpose to our lines.

 

Maybe we won’t find faith, maybe we won’t find God

Maybe we won’t find beauty or a particular cause.

Still we need – something to believe.  And we need – something to believe.

 

We sleep & sleep for we believe – pictures in our heads

Might be the only peace we’ll find in lands of cardboard lids.*

Maybe we won’t find truth, maybe we won’t find love

Maybe we won’t find duty, not in Bentham or in Kant.

 

Still we need – something to believe.

And we need –

We are unafraid and living without faith 

And there is still a purpose in the gray. 

If there’s no design, no function to our lines

There is still a purpose to our times. Let us write a purpose to our lines.

 

Still we need – something to believe.

And we need – something to believe.