The mystery of hope is in how fragile it is, yet how strong it may prove. The candle light of hope is sometimes snuffed by a single whisper, but it is also true that that light may outshine even death. How is it that this one gem of human existence has two facets so opposite? What makes one hope be so easily snuffed out, and another one live beyond the reach of ten generations? Of a hope's death, I understand that finite things have finite existence, but its remarkable persistence is another matter. Perhaps its power is more than just a human action; it smacks of something like a divine spark, that hope which endures past the deaths of many, and yet needs but one single soul to keep its flame. Perhaps, though, it is merely human after all, and speaks the best of us: though we are mortal, we touch on something more solemn than death, higher than time.... I have hope for hope. Keep that candle lit if you can, but let it go if you must — there will be hope again tomorrow.
me?!
12:49am saturday, 21st june
I too have hope in hope- but I have my doubts..
me?!
12:58am saturday, 21st june
poems such as this stirrs up my brain-really gets me thinking.Been going through your work from way back.I think I can see a development-to the better.On your account I am glad.Well,soon morning-sleep tight Stand
me?!