Hope

The hope of a word with no sound

Can the sound of hope be so close and yet so far

so distant, like a tune of a manually twisted up glass melody

there are things in this world that cannot ever be fathomed

we have come to this realization

and even if what we imagine does not come to fruition

the flower still blooms in the stars that the dreams were wished upon

there is hope, in everything

hope doesn't have a sound; nor a body; nor a mind

hope comes from somewhere else

somewhere again; that we cannot fathom

we know that every being has good and evil intentions

so why is it that we do not know of hope's true existence

Is the echo of hope ever going to make its way into our minds

or will it be an echo to our bodies, or even towards our souls

we base all these things from what we believe to truly exist

so if a living thing never thought; or even sought

some sort of praise, some sort of guidance

some sort of faith;

or anything, for that matter

would hope still ever have an existence; if it was never born into this world

hope is very, very ancient

far older than the sands of time

and through all of these actions and tunes,

and different chords of melodies of this wonder known as hope;

hope is truly silent,

until it is spread, through the art of sound

you can sit by a riverbank for twenty days, and twenty nights

you can await the time when you hear the grass sway;

the dirt fly through the wind

the water crashing with waves; some small, some great

but in those twenty days;

you will never hear the sound

the sound of the echo of the thing that we call hope