#2845-Sides

I listen to the words,

Then stare in silence,

Pondering what to believe.

Reasons teeming with holes,

Or the quiet goodness,

Of a caring soul.

And when answers,

Do not readily arrive,

I look to the past,

For clues left behind.

And often it is perspective,

That helps me perceive,

The truth I seek,

Lurking in the mix.