When first we begin to believe
what we believe is a whole system;
a totality of judgments made plausible to us.
Light only dawns gradually over the whole.
What we believe depends on what we learn.
People teach us it is merely extremely
probable water over fire will boil not freeze.
What we consider impossible is only improbable.
We don’t really know how one gets to the moon
but those who get there know at once they’re there.
I, for one, remain unconvinced, convinced, unconvinced
the sun is not a hole in the vault of heaven.
Why is it supposed to be possible
to have grounds for believing
if it isn’t possible to be certain? As if
giving grounds did not come to an end sometime.
If you are not certain of any fact, you cannot be
certain of the meaning of your words either.
At some point one has to pass
from explanation to mere description.
Thus it seems to me that I have known something
the whole time and yet there is no meaning in saying so.
In uttering this truth.
For then it is as if I wanted to insist
that there are things that I know
God himself can’t say anything
to me about them.
Must I not begin to trust?