I Still Have Hope

A whisper. A dimly lit dream. A solemn ember in the heart. I have hope, Though fragile and liable to fail. But I press on, Shielding the flame from the raging storms and ripping winds. It is an impossible odd. A single four-leaf clover amongst a field of overgrowth. The needle hidden in one of a thousand haystacks. Even so, I will still search for it. My drive is far reaching, Surpassing mountains. For it is not quite over yet. And I still have hope. Indeed, indeed. I still have hope.