I think of hope,
That magical, living being
that holds up our shattered selves
and whispers, keep going.
I think of hope,
That growing sprout,
in an endless plain of darkness
when you're lost.
When your breath grows faint,
it arrives like a sudden breeze.
I think of hope,
that blue butterfly,
dancing, full of joy,
when you've forgotten
what it means to fly,
it becomes your wings
to rise again.
I think of hope,
That hand in the dark,
That glimmer in someone’s eyes,
That silent presence that says,
you’re not alone.
