Relentless Hope

There is a boldness in hope. An unyielding that transcends even the most cynic hedonist. Hope cries out, it springs eternal because hope is not one to disappoint. It radiates ever. It is audacious, promising and instills a confidence only self can deter albeit weakly.

In its buoyancy hope tends to portend the thought that a certain course is sustainable, be it the hope of seeing a loved one once more, whether already departed or lost in the veneer of time, hope gives tenacity to dreams. Dreams of love sought, dreams of love found, dreams of an offspring desired, a job, a calling an inward desire to achieve that which seems impossible or far fetched. That which seems imperfect but makes sense only to the one whose heart it soothes. Hope tends to keep a candle alight, rekindling a flame that had been dim so long burnishing a darkness that had filled one’s heart so long.

Hope keeps the wheels of uncertainty oiled, well-greased and the cock screws of life swirling in circles as if by magic everything will turn alright. The hope of a lover brazen with a past so dark, the thought of a life wasted in youth; mistakes too grave to be unwritten, immortalized in the consequences of action.

Yet hope builds the need to rise again, dust off the ashes and stand tall like a celebrated warrior. One injured in the throes of battle. Deeply wounded, scarred, hope1

only the clock of time can heal if not fade.  Hope is uncurbed, venturesome and foolhardy. It is cocky, fearless and bold. It is the one virtue that keeps afloat a sinking boat even in the bleakest of weathers. Hope speaks, it inspires, and it gains. Hope brings meaning when there is none. To have hope is to live, to gain a sense of breath in a journey forlorn.