Immaculate re-conception

And in a twist of synchronicity
That now, behind my ever-strengthened
Front of cynicism, betrays me
At all wanton times,
Was re-presented to me the concept
Of the immaculate conception.

Immaculate? Perhaps. Conceived
In a way that most would deign
To think belies 
The very counternature of itself,
But still,
The way I want things to be,
In a way I was frightened to think
Could continue to present itself to be,
Therein lies
The paradox of the thing.

Today, despite 
The fear, despite the 
Unknown, despite the un-
Knowingness, I was shown an
Alternate way to be
With all the doubt
And all the (un)free-natured argument
Previously undone, and un-decreed,
Given a glimpse of a sign and of the sun
That I cannot help but feel
Reinforces what I want us to be.

The first words of a book I've wanted to write,
But have rejected -- based on
The inability to see the point,
Or the worth, read to 
Me in soft tones, growled in essence --
Renewed my faith
(As little as it may be, but
Clings to me nonetheless as one
Has once observed while
In a tunnel)
Proved to me
That doubt is fickle and transitory.

So now, with newfaith,
I plow into a
Newday; The 
New Day
I feared but bring the conception of,
Immaculate 
Because you've borne it too.
Into the possibility that
None of this is ever my end; 
Not even the end,
But my beginning,
As it should be.