You ask what I believe in,
the question hanging in the air
like a flock of Vaux swifts

poised to dive into a chimney.
Any answer I give will be
trampled beneath the boots of your dogma.

But I answer anyway
because there is a chance
my assumption is as astray as your question:

I believe in the universe,
of which humans are a shockingly
small aspect;

I am in utter awe,
buoyed in an abyss of gratitude
that I am able to behold what little I can;

everything together is
the only perfection I can imagine.
You turn in disgust, bitterly lamenting my lost soul.

I await the next question,
wondering how I can improve my answer.

(Vaux swifts: colleenpatriciawilliams.com; earth: wonderfulengineering.com)