• bethiebug77

Hope Is

What is Hope?

The absence of fear? The absence of sorrow? The absence of pain? No, not the absence of Any of these, But, rather, The presence of courage, The presence of joy, The presence of delight. The choice to see the world in color, While looking through shades of gray. The opportunity to breath deep, Instead of holding it all in for sake of composure. The chance to change despite how the world sees you, Despite how you see yourself.

Hope Is Pure

Not an emotion merely to be felt, And then put on a shelf. It is not to be denied due to Self pity, Self doubt, Or shame. It is to be embraced, To be wrapped tight around An aching heart, To pack deep into the wounds of time, To stitch up the scratches from self loathing, And regret, And guilt. It is water to a thirsty soul, And rest to the weary and down trodden.

Hope Is Light.

The light our heart sees, While our feet walk blindly. Still, we put one foot In front of the other, All the while following that light. Feeling that light. Allowing that light, To pour into the parts of us that doubts, Making us more than we could ever be without it, Transforming and transcending, Shining ever on, Through and through, And with the shine, Warmth follows to thaw Even the coldest of broken hearts.

Hope Is Now.

Hope is not what was, What could be, What isn’t, Or what we wish wasn’t. It is what it is. It is moment by moment, Breath by breath, Heart beat to heart beat. Now and always. It is motion, and standing still All at the same time. It is worlds colliding, Tears flowing and not knowing why, But not caring why. For, at last, it is real.

Hope Is Real.

And to come to this realization, This cornerstone among the rubble Of ashes and fallen dreams, The tower still standing after the final battle, Has been lost. This is hope in its truest form. For whether there be Feast or famine, Whether there be Friend or foe, Whether there be Dreams of all dreams, Or nightmares of all nightmares, There is no truer solution to Any equation that that of hope.

Hope Is Life.

For it and it alone breaths into the soul, And revives our spirit, Rejuvenating all that was once dead and dormant, Within us, Awakening and stirring parts that we had forgot Existed. But at hope’s touch, We awake, And yet not only we, But symphonies of long forgotten song, Strings of ideas too farfetched to fathom, Dreams intertwined within our being, And yet, stretched so far, That had we gone one more day without it, Joy would be but a fading memory.

Hope Is Action.

It calls us to Arise and walk. It compels us to Lift up our eyes, To meet the horizon finally in view. It straightens all the bended dreams That would be lost. But instead are found. It mends and heals, All brokenness within our Existence, And works within us. It brings us to our feet, And calls us to be more Than we ever thought we could be.

Hope Is Rising!

Will you meet it?

❤ Like Baby Bear Soup

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