Faith

May I dance with you?

Beguiling coquette,
playing hide and seek
     behind dusty stacks
     of dogma, whose stiffness
has stifled our centuries —

you, who so glibly slips
     through the clench
     of my insecurities, as I

awake to the dim light
     with a chill sweat
and an empty hand; too shaky
     to face the day without
your steadying sobriety.

But you are whimsy.
Wind whistling through the leaves,
     as evanescent as mist
     rising from a morning pond.

Concealed in shadows, you wait
for me
     to take one bold step
     into the darkness
without a candle.