The sound of the word… it starts with a breath and ends with a burst.
It’s tantamount to the expectation of our lives.
We come into this world gasping for breath and yearn for that one moment in life to call our burst. We strive for that pinnacle instant in which we realize all this breathing and kicking and screaming outside the safety of the womb has been worth it.
For some, hope flutters. It creates golden rays and angelic choirs. It speaks of truth and clear tomorrows. It smells of cherry blossoms and creates canopies of translucent breath.
For others, hope is the pebble in the shoe of raw emotion and grit. It loads the burden of the already leaden balloon. It becomes the one thing you cannot do, but forever reach for. It exacerbates the blackness that pervades the already dismal soul.
Hope holds the truth of dualism. Its very nature is the yin and the yang. It is the purveyor of darkness and light. It is the sunshower and the shadowless flame.
Hope, the immortal prowess of man.
Photo Credit to Erik Stine via Unsplash