Our beliefs are the bindings of a book

they are what holds us together.

When the world looks dark

our beliefs are that great Ark.

The one that Moses built

it is what connects the blade to the hilt.

Your beliefs stay true when friends do not

and if they are strong, they cannot be bought.

When the water runs dry and edibles rot

when the storm comes and help does not.

Beliefs stay with you, deep inside

they do not run out when all life has died.

Still, you ask me what I cannot live without

I say it is my beliefs, with not a single doubt.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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