Sky glows sapphire, azure, marshmallow white

and dazzling sun shines yellow, orange, orange yellow bright.

Everything around me seems sure of color, except for myself.

I am an empty, colorless shell.

 

But Hope colors me generously:

red with passion,

orange with enthusiasm,

yellow with satisfaction,

green with maturation,

blue with compassion,

and purple with ambition.

 

Hope helps many turn bitter to bland.

Hope pave paths for the unplanned.

Hope acts as superglue for scattered, glass shards of broken dreams

and desperately waters infant seeds of chance.

 

In my wretched circumstances, Hope feeds me strength.

Hope nurtures my determination and perseverance.

Hope guides the way to another entrance.

 

Hope is a constellation of consolation.

Hope taps me on the shoulder and says, "Yes, you are at a dead end,

but life is not over, and it will get better."

Hope nudges me to crawl, when I refuse to walk.

Hope are many dimly lit candles in a forest at night.

Although not bright, it is still light.

 

Hope gives me voice. Hope lets me shout.

Hope, I surely cannot live without.

 

Hope expands far beyond the visible horizon.

Hope exists in my imagination.

Hope is a silk thread bridging my mind with reality.

I cannot live without Hope

because Hope lives in me.