“I cannot say my creed in words
How should I spell despair, excitement, joy and grief?
Amazement, anger, certainty and unbelief?
What was the grammer of those sleepless nights?
Who the subject, what the object?
Of a friend who will not come, or does not come,
And then creates his own eccentric special dawn,
A blinding light that does not blind?
Why do I find you in the secret places
Where I hide from your eternal light?
I hate you, I love you, I miss you, wish that you would go,
And yet I know that long ago you made a fairy tale for me,
About the day when you would take your sword
And battle through the thicket of the things I have become.
You’ll kiss to life my sleeping beauty waiting
For her prince to come.
Then I will wake and look into your eyes and understand
And for the first time I will not be dumb
And I shall say my creed in words.”
(Adrian Plass)