Hope

Hope.

Hope is

The thing that keeps us moving through the storm, for the-

The "thing"

that lies, that walks, that runs, that spreads, with

The wish that it will give us feathers.

Feathers that

Get me through the storm, and perches

In my heart. In

My soul. In the

Highest peak and the deepest cave of my soul.

But the feathers break, and

The feathers cannot hold me in the air any longer, and now sing

"Help! Help!" into the

silence of the tune.

Yet, without it. Without

Hope, the tune turns into a chant. The

Chant turns into an abyss, and I am left with the echo of the words.