The thing called Hope
It is the thing with feathers
it floats, it has wings, it is life
it holds up the world, never abandoning
Dum spiro spero, words written on my crest
for to lose hope, i hear, is to lose it all, to burn out
it lights the way, a glowing torch in the night, a halo
hope however begets disappointment
it is fanciful, naive, heartened, and unfulfilled
"Minds that are ill at ease are agitated by both hope and fear"
I breath as I hope, but hold it in, waiting
Should my hope not float up, fly off, shining
I will be lost, beseeching it's hummingbird wings up again
Hope is infinite, intricate, intangible
It is a small tug at the edge of your sleeve
It whispers in your ear, tail wrapped around you, hugging
It tells you of tomorrow, and the next day too
It warns you of unsteady currents and tropical storms
It tells you to hold on, even on the darkest, starless eve
Hope is a tease, a temptress, a siren overboard
It beckons you, deceiving and flawless, young and pure
Like chasing a rainbow, perfection and endless and ungraspable.
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