Though the darkness has bound itself fastly to me
It is this light that has given me hope
I say that out of a lack of words
For it seems that the holy requires some vast vocabulary
Existing in conversations between theologians
Pastors and well versed, tired and worn, ministers
Yet I have lost the language, it has been torn
From mind by these spindly fingers
That have now bound themselves to my heel
So all I can say is hope
For in that light I felt the lessening of this grip
It has faltered giving me reason to think
That this strength is merely an illusion
And the muscles that keeps this darkness fastened around me
Are truly and unequivocally weak.