Because It's Unseen Doesn't Mean It's There

All my life I've heard about the power of faith,
And the healing effect of prayer.
But all the time a little voice to me saith:
Because it's unseen doesn't mean it's there.

Theology is the only field where things
Don't have to be seen to be real.
Hell and Heaven, communion and angels' wings,
Seem to be rooted in what people "feel."

Hmmm. But we all have so many feelings every day
That I am surprised people can learn not to care
About the conflicts when they kneel to pray.
(Because it's unseen doesn't mean it's there).

Or perhaps the doubts and meanderings cease.
Perhaps their brain closes its eyes to take a rest.
Perhaps they enter church entirely at peace
With a calm heart in their breast.

If that is so, then I envy them!
My mind never rests, but must hunt; and tear
The hides from its prey to better see them.
(Because it's unseen doesn't mean it's there).

I have felt calm enough, and blessed,
When I looked up to see a sunset's poem.
But I never believed anyone was possessed, 
Or that Heaven is humanity's home.

I believe that a home of incomparable worth
Is something we, with the animals, share;
I believe humanity's home is the earth.
(Because it's unseen doesn't mean it's there).

I don't believe in eternal life.
I believe we all pass death's portal.
And the only things amid the war and strife
That live- the only things that are immortal-

Are poems and songs and other forms of art,
Which, changing and changeless, make their lair
In the wilderness of humanity's heart.
(Because it's unseen doesn't mean it's there).

I believe that there are many people
Who, because I die, will never see my face.
I believe that, though beneath a steeple
They try, they will not bring my soul to grace.

I believe that there will be no surprises
If my eyes, or the shade of my hair,
No one remembers after a few thousand sunrises.
(Because it's unseen doesn't mean it's there).

I will die. But I will not die while I live,
Will not cower in fear or in blind trust,
Will not bleed myself, when I cannot give
Anything to keep any one from grave dust.

The gods, or God, or any other higher powers,
Can keep their temples and their prayers.
I was only poetry, and freedom, and flowers.
(Because it's unseen doesn't mean it's there).

I want only what no one else can give me:
The courage not to cower or to hide;
The strength and truth of utter poetry;
The decidedly human limitations and pride.

I even want mortality, freedom from fate.
Not for me even a heaven as faint as air. 
When I die, any cage will be too late. 
(Because it's unseen doesn't mean it's there).