Faith

I think you know this.

How many times

I have tried to define you,

Only to realise that I am discovering myself?

Are you an idea or the elusive tactility of an emotion,

A trace of a dream I am unsure I witnessed?

How many times

I have stumbled along and missed you –

A reflection that smiled when I was not looking,

In a pool that slipped through my cupped palms

Before I could drink.

And yet you are these words that escape from within me,

Whose message I seek.

You are an illusion whose memory I persist in,

Confounded by each turn and space.

I do not know my own quest.

Must I stall? 

Or must I simply submit?