The Lament of the Poet

I want to write something fantastic
And I know what I want to write
It is in my head somewhere.
But when I I put pen to paper
words escape me.

The beautiful words
The amazing message
of faith, and peace, and love, and hope
I only know peripherally
out of the corner of my eye
but when I focus on them
they hide

I have an inkling
an outline shadowed in smoke
it slips away from me
as I try to catch it.
It would be stunning
If only I could write it

But who knows
when inspiration strikes
and I eventually write
whether it will be worth
me having written it?
Will I have succeeded
In my struggle for meaning?