I fear cold certitude more than I do the smoke of doubt.

For certainty implies a finality of knowing,

the closing of doors,

the chiseling of conclusions.

Why is doubt maligned?

Is it not both humble and honest?

It is to tread lightly through

the length of our days,

to leave doors ajar for a sliver of light,

to allow for the possibility of people

and the terrains we traverse

to transcend the limits

of what we have known.