Searching still

I am a man of faith,
but it is a thing constantly assailed
Answers I have not one,
despite drowning in questions
Like any one desperate,
I wish to cling onto something
There are times,
when I can almost imagine,
hearing this voice,
providing guidance 
Perhaps it is divine
There are many things I have read,
yet none of the sages agree
I could be a flawed thing, 
and only through faith,
will I become perfect
There is also the chance,
perfect does not come people shaped
We are the same,
you and I
Each of us is searching
Looking for meaning
Maybe it is the journey, 
that matters
The constant pursuit,
for our own individual truths
And life is only unrighteous,
when one stops looking