Despair is pitch black.
Claustrophobic.
A strait jacket.
Sometimes I rest in my despair, I get to know its grip, experience its secrets.
I ask it why it came, and where its from.
I don’t let it win.
It's an outside force, and I may allow it to visit....
but not to nest.
It surely isn't a part of my guts,
more like a foreign object, a sliver, a scab.
It teaches me.
I'm stubbornly strong against anything that wants to tear me down.
Is hope something in our DNA?
Is it written in our soul?
Instinctual or learned?
Some seem to have it more than others.
Some much less.
Hope comes in the dark.
A tiny flame lighting up total darkness.
My light burns through a prism in my heart. A door creaks open.
New ideas form.
Plans are hatched.
Adventures await.
Comments