Hope’s a Poor Beggar
Or simply a creation of four single letters
Hope’s a frequently used term of which I’m admittedly guilty. Many of my prospects start with … “I hope”… It’s like a dull plea that endlessly sails off my praying lips. Like a craving for a lost jewel, I don’t seem to own anymore. When I’m in need of hope, I’m blinded by my faith in lack rather than feeling blessed with knowing.
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Hope’s a misused word which I, too, have abused at times. Because I often dive in with … “I hope” … and then proceed … “that it’ll get better soon, that it won’t rain, that people will live in peace and harmony” … My mind constantly craves a reality that’s out of my league and for which I fail to accept its simple existence. If I genuinely aspire to be at peace, the journey begins with confidence—instead of some gloomy shades of hope.
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Hope’s a worn-out term that harbors much frustration, too. I often set off with … “I hope” … and as I do, doubt starts sneaking in and settles. For if I truly knew, I wouldn’t have to hope. And because I don’t always see the truth, I dial hope. And thus remain stuck in some dreadful disbelief.
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Hope’s a beautiful concept that nourishes our longings until we finally accomplish the journey towards knowing. And begin to live…
