Hope, like a spotlight constructed of stardust, shines down in the darkest of nights
keeping the light alive in life for thousands of downtrodden citizens of melancholy.
If only this stream of happy and bright could stay always–oh the moods it has raised,
like extreme first aid on the world’s wounds and angry scars.
Hope, unexpected like a burst of adrenaline coursing through our dried-up veins,
saving lives even if only barely… it keeps us here, and sometimes that’s all we need
until something, someone more solid can save us from our own destructive despair.
Hope, satiates us just enough so that we keep hoping, just barely grasping the light
at the end of the seemingly endless tunnel.
Caressing us–we locked in it’s arms–telling us it’ll all be okay
even when the most morbid emotions spill forth from our hearts,
it keeps us gazing toward its light, the radiance more worthy of stares
than any work of art.
Hope, the thinnest, but